


Rumplestiltskin's Other Student

by katiethecat14



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2019-07-08 16:57:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 32,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15934607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katiethecat14/pseuds/katiethecat14
Summary: Of course, Regina isn't the only one who learned magic from Rumplestiltskin. When 17-year-old Anya turns up in Storybrooke under mysterious circumstances, she's startled to find that her Fairytale Land familiars are still their cursed selves. She teams up with August and Henry to break the curse, but even if they succeed, their new friend is part of a complicated history that she's not in a hurry to reveal. And then there's her pesky magical gift.[including an angsty F/F relationship]A different version of OUAT, including some of my favorite fairytale characters that weren't in the show. End of S1-onward.





	1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

“Jefferson?” calls August W. Booth, seeing that the front door hangs open. He is standing by the madman’s hat, which still lays on the ground outside the second-story window where it fell, its creator having vanished into the never-ending depths. It has been weeks now since August arrived, and after a journey to the forest outside Storybrooke left the savior he was supposed to convince of her destiny in tears, August is feeling more than a little defeated. He thought the mad hatter would have some insight, or at least August could vent to the only other (non-evil) person in this accursed town who knows the truth.

But Jefferson isn’t here, and judging by the hat, he hasn’t been here in some time.

August shrugs, and considers leaving, but something about the darkness beyond the open door is intriguing; and anyway, he can snoop around freely since the owner isn’t here to drug him. He looks around surreptitiously and then slips inside, flicking the light switch on. “Anyone here?” he yells, just for good measure.

There is a broken teacup on the living room floor, but the top of the piano is dusty. Upstairs ribbons and tattered hats are thrown around in one room, and in another, which holds an empty chair and several pieces of rope, August can look out the broken window to the hat lying distantly below. As he turns back to exit the room, a muffled thump comes from somewhere outside it. August freezes. He may be a shady character, but writers don’t carry guns, and his wooden leg isn’t much good as a club. There is another thump, from the same place, and he creeps out into the hallway. The third thump tells him they’re coming from a door to his right, a door August had already tried and found locked. Now he sees, as though it has just appeared, a key under the table next to the door, looking like it was dropped there.

Though he believes in magic, August finds it a little too coincidental that the key fits perfectly in the lock. Bracing himself, he cracks the door open—and then immediately jumps back. “Damn,” he swears loudly.

A girl stares back at him silently, tied-up and forgotten in Jefferson’s closet.

*****

Upon seeing August her eyes widen and she begins to struggle. He reaches out and pulls the handkerchief down from her mouth. “Are you okay?” he asks.

She is overcome with a coughing fit and doesn’t respond for a moment. “Not exactly,” she finally chokes out. “I am going to _kill_ that hatter.”

August laughs. “Unfortunately that’ll have to wait, especially since I can’t help you out of these.” He gestures to the handcuffs that hold her wrists in front of her. He unwraps the duct tape from her ankles, though, and offers a hand to pull her up. “I’m August W. Booth, by the way.”

She takes it but doesn’t let go once she is standing. Her eyes are searching his for something. “But you are someone else, really,” she finally says. August is trying to place her accent, and nearly misses the importance of what she says.

“I’m sorry, what?” August replies, feigning ignorance. He is hoping, but… it could be a trap. Then again, she’d called Jefferson “that hatter”.

Her laugh sounds much older than her years. “You may have aged, Pinocchio, but you do not fool me.” For the first time in his life, August is at a loss for words. She cocks her head. “You don’t remember me?”

“Afraid not.”

“Grand Duchess Anastasia,” she says, finally releasing him as she curtsies. “You may call me Anya.”

“Oh,” he says finally.

Anastasia. _The_ Anastasia.

Anya holds up her wrists. “When you have recovered from that shock, how do I get these off?”

“Right,” August says. “The sheriff’s station will have keys. I’ll take you there.”

She nods and allows him to escort her out of the house, then stops short at his vehicle. “What is _that_?”

“A motorcycle. Quite a nice one, actually.” He glances back at her. “You’ll have to ride behind me. It’ll be awkward with the handcuffs, but we’ll manage.”

She takes his word for it and tries not to scream as he careens down the black strip that leads into town. Luckily, the impending storm has hurried many people inside, or else the duo would have gotten some strange looks. Anya is a new person, and that doesn’t happen often here. August still gets looked at sideways sometimes.

He swings his bike into the space next to Emma’s cruiser and struggles not to look at the girl he is escorting inside. She _knows_. Very few people have managed to escape that effect of the curse, and somehow this seemingly teenage girl knows exactly who she is. However, as August is well aware, appearance is no indicator of age in this place, and Anya acts considerably older than sixteen or seventeen. She also has no idea how to open a sliding door.

Emma, thank God, is sitting at her desk eating a sandwich, a takeout bag from Granny’s lying open beside it. August had worried that she’d be out on a call, despite the car in the parking lot. Around here, the sheriff often goes on foot. She glances up at him as he enters, intentionally hiding Anya from her view for a moment.

And, great, Emma is still mad at him. Mouth full, she nonetheless gives him a scathing look that clearly says, “What do you want?”

He holds up a hand. “Don’t worry Emma, I’m not here about before. I wouldn’t bother you at all, except I thought you should know I found something at Jefferson’s house.” He steps aside to show her Anya. “And she needs help.”

Anya gasps and looks at him. “Emma?”

August had forgotten that name would be important to her. He nods, and has to stifle a laugh as Anya begins to curtsey and then stops short as Emma narrows her eyes.

Emma swallows. “Who are you?”

Anastasia glances at August, who shakes his head. “My name is Anya,” she says simply, with a puzzled look at the not-so-wooden boy. “Jefferson neglected to leave me a key for these.”

“Ooookay,” Emma says. “I can fix that.” She rummages in a drawer, curses, opens another drawer, out of which she hauls a stack of papers and various other things she throws on top of her desk, and finally comes up with a key ring. A few minutes, and a lot of cursing on Emma’s part, later, Anya is rubbing her chafed wrists and Emma has discarded the handcuffs into one of her innumerable drawers. “So… you found her in Jefferson’s _house_?” Emma says pointedly to August.

He nods. “Locked in a closet. Obviously his unexpected departure left some unfinished business.”

“He’s been gone for a couple of _days_ ,” Emma says, but seems to dismiss it, much to August’s, and Anya’s, dismay. “Why’d he lock you in the closet? And how long were you in there?” Emma’s determined gaze is set on Anya’s, and August is unnerved by their matching blue eyes.

“He put me in there the day he trapped Sn— I don’t know what her name is here,” she whispers quickly to August.

“Mary Margaret.”

“…the day he trapped Mary Margaret,” she continues, wrinkling her nose at the name. “I heard another woman’s voice later on, downstairs, and then there was some banging as someone came upstairs. There were voices in the hat room, his and the woman’s, and then there was some banging and shouting in the hallway and another room, and then it stopped. I pounded on the door and no one came, but I heard two people go down the stairs. I pounded for awhile, but no one responded. I lost track of time after that, but it must have been a long time, and then I heard footsteps on the stairs and wandering around upstairs, and I started pounding again, and then August found me.”

Emma has been nodding during the story, as it matches what she remembers from her own trip there. “I was the woman,” she explains. “I’m sorry Mary Margaret and I didn’t find you. You were in there for a long time by yourself.”

Anya nods, looking hurt, but August can see through it. She is pretending, for Emma’s sake he presumes, to be a scared teenage girl. He almost laughs aloud because she thinks Emma will fall for that.

“So you were in his house before that?” Emma prompts. “Willingly or unwillingly? And why did he lock you up in the first place?”

Now Anya looks worried, and says carefully, “I went there by choice…”

Emma jumps in as she trails off. “Because?”

Now Anya is the one with the determined sapphire gaze, which she directs right at Emma. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” she says flatly.

“She’s not the only one who wants to know,” August puts in.

She says quickly, glancing at and then away from Emma, “Because he found me when I arrived in Storybrooke, confused as to how I got here. Everyone else seemed completely oblivious, and he clearly was not. I was desperate for someone who understood.”

August knows the feeling, perfectly in fact.

“But he _is_ crazy, and he got angry at me when I couldn’t get his stupid hat to work,” she continues. “I cannot help it that this place lacks any connection to magic.”

“Now you’ve done it,” August says softly, and Anya grimaces at Emma’s expression.

“You’re like him,” Emma says, rubbing her temple with one hand and pointing at August with the other. “You believe Henry’s storybook.”

“Who is Henry?”

“Her son,” August answers. “He’s the one who got her to come to Storybrooke. I’ll explain later,” he adds quickly, with a pointed glance at Emma when Anya starts to open her mouth in protest. Anya nods.

“Whatever _that_ was,” Emma says, “just proves my point.”

“Assuming that ‘Henry’s storybook’ means ‘the curse exists and everyone in this town is a fairytale character, they have just lost their memories’, then yes, I believe it. And so should you.”

August warns, “Anya-“

“Anyway,” Emma says. “Are you planning on staying in Storybrooke, now that you’re here, or will you be leaving?”

“I expect you have noticed by now that very few people can leave, but yes, I will stay. I do not have anywhere else to be, after all.” With a mischievous look at August, she adds, “And I would not want to miss what is coming.”

“Unfortunately, Granny doesn’t have any open rooms,” August says, ignoring her hint. “But you’re welcome to stay with me.”

Emma says quickly, “That would be awkward, though. I’m sure Mary Margaret would be happy to take you in for a while. Eager, even.”

Anya smiles shyly. “I would not want to impose.”

“You won’t, I promise. She could use the company. I’m so busy I’m hardly around anymore, and she needs someone to talk to—and fuss over.”

“Thank you,” Anya replies.

Emma glances at the clock. “I really have to get back to work, but…”

“I’ll give her a tour on the way,” August says. “I have plenty of time. Writer’s block, you know.” Emma rolls her eyes but thanks him, and they leave. “What do you think of the savior?” August asks Anya as they stroll.

“She is very stubborn,” she replies, wrinkling her nose. August laughs. “Do you see now why I’ve been having trouble getting her to believe?”

“Yes, but—" Anya stops in the middle of the sidewalk. “There must be something you can do? She is the only one destined to break this curse.”

“I’ve tried everything I can think of,” August says. “But if you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly the best person for the job. Or should I say, toy,” gesturing to his limp.

“When did the son happen?” She says, walking once more.

“Ten years ago. I lost track of her, and by the time I found her again the damage was already done.”

“Eighteen? That is young to be having a child.”

August cracks a grin. “You’re one to talk. But that’s not the worst part.”

“Then what is?” She glances over at him. “And you know I am your elder, so do not judge me from appearances.”

“I wouldn’t dare. Well, see… if I tell you, you have to promise not to tell anyone, especially not Emma.”

She quirks an eyebrow but agrees. “Out with it.”

“Henry’s father is Rumplestiltskin’s son.”

“ _Baelfire_?”

“Shh,” August cautions. They have just passed in front of Granny’s at lunchtime, and Anya’s outburst is rather loud.

“He’s _here_?” She whispers loudly.

“Not here in Storybrooke, but yes, he’s in this land.”

Anya nods in sudden understanding. “That is why Rumplestiltskin adjusted the curse the way he did. He _wants_ Emma to break it.”

August nods. “And in that, at least, he and you and I are all in agreement.”

“And… Henry. He knows about the curse?”

“Yes. Mary Margaret gave him a storybook with all of us in it, which provoked him to find Emma.”

“Smart boy,” Anya says, while she is silently gleeful that the storybook has been found, though she isn’t going to say anything of the sort to August. “ _Find_ Emma? He was not with her?”

“No. She gave him up for adoption as a baby. Regina raised him.”

Anya’s eyes get very wide, and she stays silent for a long moment. Then she asks softly, “The Evil Queen, Regina?” August nods. Anya swallows. “Great. Wonderful. Give the woman who destroyed happy endings the boy whose mother will bring them back.”

“I’m not sure, but I suspect Rumplestiltskin was behind it, using Henry as bait for Emma.”

“This town is just grand, is it not? One big tangled web of secrets. Glad I reappeared for _this_.”

August shows Anya the school, explaining that that is where Snow White works, and the animal shelter where Prince James, otherwise known as David, works, and Mayor Mills’ home, which Anya can hardly bear to look at. “Regina’s really enjoying herself, isn’t she?” They eat a late lunch at Granny’s, where Anya completely doesn’t understand the counter setup and calls Ruby “Red” before August can stop her. Luckily, Ruby and Granny dismiss it as the new girl not remembering names.

By the time August and Anya arrive at Mary Margaret’s apartment building, school is well out and Anya is exhausted from all the walking. He leads her up the stairs and knocks, Anya standing shyly behind him.

Mary Margaret opens the door quickly, still wearing her coat. “August! Good timing. I just got home.” She motions him inside, but isn’t expecting the girl he has with him. Anya looks around, gaping. The apartment, though roomy and open, is smaller than one room in Snow and the Prince’s castle. She is also openmouthed at Snow, who is short-haired, soft-spoken, and as timid as Anya currently is—quite the opposite of the precocious child Anya had known.

“Hello!” Mary Margaret says brightly to Anya, holding out her hand. “We haven’t met before. I’m Mary Margaret Blanchard.”

Anya, about to curtsey, instead delicately shakes the offered hand, wondering why this place has to have such strange customs. “My name is Anya,” she says simply, for the second time. She’s dazzled by this woman, but nonetheless remembers to hold back.

Mary Margaret gently smiles. “That’s all? No last name?” She doesn’t really need an answer, but she gets one anyway.

“Well, properly it is Nikolaevna, but— never mind,” she finishes, as August places a warning hand on her arm.

Mary Margaret looks puzzled, but offers them both tea instead, once they’ve sat down.

“No, thank you, Your Hi—Sn—Miss Blanchard…” Blushing, and seeking to stop the worried look on Mary Margaret’s lovely face, Anya says, “I apologize, I am just tired. My tour guide here has taken me all over town.”

August grins. “I’ll admit I’m guilty of that. I was waiting for you to get home, actually. Anya’s not… from around here, and Emma and I were wondering if—“

“Oh, of course you can stay here,” Mary Margaret jumps in, practically beaming. “Now I know of you I wouldn’t let you stay anywhere else. Granny’s is perfectly nice, but it’s not a home.”

“Thank you, Miss Blanchard.”

“I have one condition, though,” she says. “You have to call me Mary Margaret.”

Anya smiles. “If you insist.”

“I’ll make up the other guest bed for you, since Emma was so kind to send you my way,” Mary Margaret adds as she leaves, almost surprising a laugh out of her guest. Only this morning Anastasia had been locked in Jefferson’s closet, and now a princess is offering her a home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

               As Emma unlocks the door to Mary Margaret’s apartment, she hears laughter.  Kicking her shoes off and coming inside, she sees Mary Margaret in the kitchen pointing a wooden spoon at Anya, who is seated at the counter spreading butter on bread.

              “And don’t even tell me it wasn’t you, because you’re the only one here!” Mary Margaret’s eyes are sparkling, and she is smiling; Emma hasn’t seen her so happy in a long time, not since the weeks of clandestine meetings with David.

              Anya sticks her finger in the bowl of mashed potatoes as soon as Mary Margaret’s back is turned, and nearly receives a smack to the hand via the spoon when the woman whirls back around.  Swiftly sticking her finger in her mouth, Anya falls back giggling.

              “Emma!  I would say dinner’s nearly ready, but I doubt there’ll be any left by the time this scoundrel is finished!” Mary Margaret says, swiping ineffectually at Anya again before she sets three plates on the countertop.  Anya giggles and gives each plate a piece of bread.

              “So you ended up here after all. I half expected August to get you lost on the way here,” Emma remarks to Anya, getting three mugs out of the cabinet as Mary Margaret silences the shrieking tea kettle.

              Anya nods silently, having just taken a huge bite of her slice of bread.  She begins setting the table before Mary Margaret can ask Emma to.

              “I’ve been teasing her but I’m glad she’s eating.  She looks half starved,” Mary Margaret whispers to Emma.  “And she eats like it too.”

              Emma murmurs back, “Did August tell you where he found her?”

              Her friend nods.  “I feel terrible.  I was only stuck in there for a day and it was horrible.  I can’t imagine what she’s been through.”

              “I have a feeling that’s only the tip of the iceberg with her,” Emma replies, and carries two mugs of hot chocolate to the table.  Mary Margaret brings the cinnamon, which she’d forgotten, and with which she liberally sprinkles their two drinks.  Anya wrinkles her nose and pulls her own mug toward her.

              They dig in, or at least Anya does, and looks so sadly at her plate when she’s finished, though without saying anything, that Mary Margaret gives her a second helping before she can protest. 

              “Got any plans for tomorrow?” Emma asks Anya as they gather up the dishes.

              “Oh, I thought you would enroll in school here,” Mary Margaret says, taking a seat on a stool since Emma has waved her away from the sink full of dishes, into which she is running hot water.

              Anya doesn’t know how to explain that she looks seventeen but is definitely not, so she answers Emma’s question instead. “August and I planned to meet up again. He was going to tell me more about everything.”

              “I would think there’d be someone better than August to show you around,” Mary Margaret contributes.  “He is the newest person to town, you know.”

              Anya replies furtively, “He’s good at explaining things.”  She likes bandying words with this woman; she is spirited even when she doesn’t remember who she is.  Snow White and Anastasia never would’ve talked like this; in fact Snow White was probably too young to remember the one time they met.  She isn’t sorry that Emma is staring daggers at her:  the savior is a surly, brusque woman anyway.

              It is becoming a game for Anya to read and understand these people, and the fun she is having takes away somewhat from the annoyance of not having magic at hand.

              Of course, this isn’t just a game.  She needs to figure out how the savior ticks, and how she and August can possibly get her to believe that she is their only chance of breaking Regina’s curse.

              *****

              Screaming, wordless and terrible, surrounds her.  She recognizes the voice, and it is all the more terrible for that.

              “ _Mama!_ ” Anastasia shouts, blind in the darkness, trapped somewhere oppressive. Another scream that cuts off suddenly with a terrible finality.  “ _NO!_ ” Anastasia screams helplessly, and suddenly she is out of the darkness and standing in the great ballroom, the place where she has countless times worn pretty dresses and danced the night away.  Her mother and father are up on the dais, sitting on their thrones, but they won’t be doing any dancing;  their eyes are sightless and glazed over in death. Her sisters and her darling younger brother are standing in a line in front of her.

              Anya is in her beautiful gold gown, but the woman who ripped her parents’ hearts out of their chests turns to Anastasia and smiles before plunging her hand into Tatiana’s chest.

              “No! Please, no, don’t hurt them!” She is sobbing at nothing, because she has awoken in the safe dimness of Mary Margaret’s apartment and her family’s dying screams are only a lingering echo in her ears.

              Her family is long dead, but she can never escape the nightmares.

              Anya sits up and hugs her knees, pressing her tears into the pajama pants that Mary Margaret has loaned her, but she can’t stop the gasps that escape her mouth.  She is trying so desperately to control herself, but that is the one quality of her rank that she has never possessed.

              She hears Emma get out of bed and feels a searching hand meet her shoulder in the dark.  “Are you okay?”

              “No,” Anya manages to choke out.  “But I am accustomed to it, sadly.”

              “Can I help?”

              Turning her face to the wispy-haired outline, she finds Emma’s eyes and holds them.  “You can, Emma, but you refuse to.”  And then she turns away and settles her head back on the pillow, listening as Emma returns to bed too, and wondering what the savior would have replied if Anastasia had let her.

              Emma Swan can’t give Anastasia her family back; it is too late for both of their childhoods to be saved.  What she _can_ do, though, is break the curse, and in so doing she will bring back the magic. 

Then Anya can get started on revenge.

*****

              “One hot chocolate with cinnamon,” Ruby says with a smile, setting it on the counter before Henry.  August shakes his head at the kid and takes a sip of his coffee, careful not to spill even a drop on Henry’s precious book.

              “See?” Henry says, pointing at an illustration of the Blue Fairy handing Baelfire a magic bean.  “If we had one of _these_ , we could open a portal to the other world, and then Emma would _have_ to believe.”

              “But we haven’t got one of those, Henry.  Maybe Mr. Gold has, but if he did he wouldn’t tell us, and he definitely wouldn’t give it to us.”  He turns as the bell chimes and Mary Margaret and Anya come in.  Anya shyly slides into the seat next to August while Ruby brings Mary Margaret her morning cup of tea.

              “See you in class, Henry,” she says cheerfully, and then leaves again.

              Henry leans forward across August, eyes wide.  “Who are _you_?”

              “My name is Anya,” she replies, trying not to laugh.  “And you must be Henry.  August has told me about you.”

              “What did you tell her about me?” Henry questions August.  He immediately begins flipping rapidly through his book, scanning the pictures for her face.

              “Relax, kid.  She’s one of us.  Operation Break-The-Curse and all that.”

              “Really?”  Henry looks hopefully at Anya.

              “Yes, really,” she laughs.  “Although I doubt you will find me in that book.”

              If possible, the savior’s son’s eyes widen even further.  “Wow, you really do know stuff!  Who are you, then?”

              “Ever heard of Anastasia?” Henry’s eyes are blank, so she continues, “The fall of Imperial Russia?  The assassination of the last Czar?”

              There’s a bit of recognition now.  “We learned about Russia in history awhile ago.  I remember Miss Blanchard said that there was a revolution and that the Russian police killed the… zzar… and his family because of the new government they wanted.  But that’s not a fairytale, that’s history!”

              “And it’s so boring there couldn’t possibly be any magic in it, right?” Anya says.  Henry nods.  “Where do you think fairy tales come from?  The story has to start somewhere.  Mine is just a little more recent in this world’s memory.”

              “I still don’t see what _you_ ’ _ve_ got to do with it,” Henry contests.

              “There is a legend that started from that sad ending, that the Czar’s youngest daughter had survived. No one could find her body. So people who liked the Romanov family thought that she must have survived and escaped somehow.”

              “You’re the youngest princess?” Henry interrupts, awed with understanding.

              “Grand Duchess Anastasia, to be precise, but yes.  Although this world’s version of the story is obviously flawed.”

              August can’t help laughing at Henry, whose mouth is hanging open.  “I’ll show you the movie sometime,” he says to Anya.  Then he looks at the clock and immediately jumps up.  “Henry, we gotta go.  Emma will kill me if you’re late for school.”  He leaves money on the counter and grabs his jacket from the rack as Henry carefully zips his story book into his backpack.  Anya wordlessly follows them out. 

              Henry leaves August to walk beside Anya. “How come you’re not under the curse like everybody else?”

              “Oh, well…” Anya trails off, wondering how to explain without telling all her secrets.  “I was already cursed, in a way, so it didn’t work right on me.”

              Henry is practically bouncing up and down, but can’t get a word out before they reach school and he keeps his mouth shut for fear that Miss Blanchard will overhear him.  She still thinks he’s trying to give up his “imaginations” that the stories are real.  He can’t bear to disappoint her, even if for once his beloved teacher is totally wrong.

              “Where to now?” Anya asks August.

              “I thought I’d show you the town line.  See what you make of Regina’s handiwork.”  He looks back at her apologetically.  “It’ll require another ride on my motorcycle.”

              She grimaces.  “I supposed I will come anyway.  I want to know what this curse is made of.  Maybe that will give me a better idea how to stop it.”

              They start back toward Granny’s to get the bike.  “You should talk to Mr. Gold sometime,” August carefully suggests.  “He knows a lot more than he lets on, and if anyone knows what makes the curse tick, he would.”

              “Who is this Mr. Gold?” She asks.

“Oh, he’s Rumplestiltskin. Sorry, I forget that you don’t know their names here.”

A flicker of fear and—regret?—crosses Anya’s face, but she quickly conceals her feelings before August can learn more than she wants him to. She sighs. “I would not be surprised if the old devil worked his memory in.  Part of the deal, I suppose?”

              August shrugs.  “I don’t—”

Anya looks ahead of them and meets the gaze of Regina Mills, Mayor of Storybrooke, who experiences an abrupt halt on her way to her office.  “Anya?” she gasps, unable to stop herself from saying the name, although she’s not supposed to remember the girl. She immediately notices the way the girl and August stand familiarly together, one of his hands resting on the handlebar of his motorcycle.

Anya immediately looks down, in what she hopes appears as the fear other Storybrooke residents display. “Yes, Mayor Mills?” She is terrified that the recognition in her eyes, in every pore of her body, will give her away.

              “Never mind,” Regina replies after a nerve-splitting pause for Anya, walking quickly away, her heart pounding as fast as Anya’s is.

              Anya watches her all the way down the block, not moving a muscle except for the smile twitching at the corners of her mouth despite her best effort, and then whirls back to August.  “Damnit, we need to speed things up.  She definitely remembers the Enchanted Forest world, and me. She knows that I do not belong in her little utopia.”

              “It’s even worse she saw us together,” August agrees.  “She already suspects something’s off with me.  All hell will break loose when she figures out what we’re doing.”

              Anya hops on behind him, and August guns it toward the town line.  Wind whips past, tangling her hair, and she shouts in his ear, “And about Mr. Gold.  As much as I would like to believe he would be on our side, our relationship is complicated.  I do not trust him at all.”

              “Me neither,” August shouts back.  “Glad we’re on the same page.”

*****

              “Madame Mayor, you called?”

              Regina snaps out of her thoughts and eyes Sidney Glass, who’s standing nervously just inside the door.  “Yes.  I need some information, Sidney, and you’re just the man to get it for me.”

              He smirks and comes to sit before her desk.  “What kind of information are we talking?”

              “I saw a girl in town today whom I’ve never seen here before,” Regina says enticingly.  “I want to know who she is.  Where she lives, who she talks to, and most especially, why she’s here.”

              Sydney raises an eyebrow.  “Have you got a name?  At least give me a description so I have something to go on.  I’m good,” he says slowly, “but I’m not _magical_.”

              _Not in this world you’re not,_ thinks Regina.  “Her name is Anya.  Don’t know the last name.  Strawberry blonde hair, blue eyes, 17 or 18 years old.  Striking features.  Seems to be friends with that August character.”

              “The writer with the motorcycle,” Sydney comments.  “Interesting.  Well, I’ve got a lot of work to do now.  I’ll contact you when I’ve got something.”

              Regina nods, dismissing him.  The reporter is a sucker for a good story.  And this one, Regina wants to hear in detail.

              Twenty-eight years haven’t erased her memories like everyone else’s.  _Anastasia_ is here. Here. _Alive_. And now that she’s here, something is going to happen.  That girl brings chaos like Granny’s meatloaf attracts customers.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

               Anya waves halfheartedly at August as he shoves on his helmet and motors away, leaving her to walk the remaining couple of blocks to Mary Margaret’s apartment alone.  Not that she minds; it’s comforting to be with someone who doesn’t have false memories, but Pinocchio is barely a child compared to her, and she’s both tired and saddened by him.  He may have been born in the Enchanted Forest, but he grew up in this world, and his memories of Fairytale Land are vague and few.

              Mr. Gold’s Pawn Shop glows on a sign far down at the end of the street, and Anya’s feet long to walk down there.  Rumplestiltskin has the answers they seek, she knows; after all, he’s the one who manufactured the curse for Regina.  But Anya can’t imagine confronting him, even after all this time, and he would see right through any attempt by her to act as a cursed, naive citizen.  So for now, she has to keep her distance and believe in Emma’s ability to save them.

              She’s so distracted by her jumbled thoughts that she runs right into a man as she turns the corner to the apartment.  He catches her shoulders before she can stumble, though, and she recognizes his face at once, despite the fading daylight. _Prince James._

              “Pardon me,” she says, reminding herself not to curtsey.

              His scruff and glum expression, so unlike the determined and valiant prince she knows he is, throw her off.  “It’s all right.  I wasn’t watching where I was going, either.”

              She realizes he’s standing in front of the door she needs.  And from the looks of it, he’s been there for awhile.  She gestures at the door and, puzzled, he steps aside.

              “Do you live here?” He asks.  “I’ve never seen you before.”

              “No, I am… staying with someone in the building.  I’m Anya,” she offers.

              “David Nolan.” He offers her his hand, and they shake.  “Um, well, if you’re going in, would you mind dropping something off for me?  It’s for Mary Margaret Blanchard.  She lives on the—”

              “Second floor, I know.  She’s the one I am staying with.”

              David’s face is absolutely like a puppy. He looks so desperate holding out an envelope, Anya can’t decide whether to laugh or cringe.  Regina really screwed the power couple over.  “Oh,” is all he says, and starts to lower his hand.

              Anya takes the envelope from him and smiles.  “Do not worry about it, I don’t mind,” she says as he tries to thank her.  She leaves him loitering as the streetlamp flickers undecidedly and climbs the stairs, pondering.

*****

              Mary Margaret is cooking dinner when Anya arrives, and Emma is sitting at the table with stacks of paperwork spread out around her.  She glances at Anya as she enters and then returns to chewing on a pen cap in concentration.  Henry sits at the counter, untidy brown head bent over his storybook; his backpack and schoolwork lie forgotten underneath his chair.

              Anya snatches a chocolate chip cookie off the counter and darts away before Mary Margaret’s spatula-wielding hand can reach her.  She collapses into the chair next to Henry, mouth full of still warm cookie and melted chocolate, giggling even though she’s exhausted.  Mary Margaret just shakes her head in mock reproach and turns away before the girl can see a smile tug at the corners of her mouth.

              “Which story today?” Anya asks Henry quietly, leaning in beside him.  A crazed Jefferson stares back at her, and she almost jumps.

              “His hat’s magic, and maybe we could use it too…” But his whispered idea trails off as Anya shakes her head.

              “The Mad Hatter is the only one who can control it,” she says sadly.  “Its magic is strange and twisted, like him.”  Henry opens his mouth, and she adds, “And he has gone into the hat, no way to tell where he went or if he will come back.”

              “So _he’s_ no good,” Henry says, and flips violently to the next page, where Hansel and Gretel stare in awe at the witch’s house, Regina a black silhouette leading them on.

              Anya nudges his shoulder with hers.  “Hey, we will think of something,” she says softly.  “One of these stories has to have _something_ we can use.”

              “I know,” Henry murmurs back.  “But I’ve been through them all and I can’t find anything.”

              “Well, maybe _I_ can shed some light.  These are not just stories for me, you know.  This would be a history book, if we were in my land.”

              So Henry closes the book and starts again from the very beginning, and in whispers the two of them dissect every word and illustration for clues until it is time for dinner, after which Emma has to take Henry home.

              “Here,” Henry says to Anya after donning his coat, Emma standing in the hallway outside, one hand holding the door open.  He hands Anya his book; she reluctantly receives it, and holds it gingerly, with as much care as he does.  He stands on tiptoe and she leans down slightly so he can whisper in her ear, “Read it all, just don’t tell them what you’re doing. And maybe you can add your own story later?”

              “I’m not making any promises,” she calls as he leaves with Emma.  Under her breath, she adds, “Thank you, savior’s son.”

              “You’re good with him,” Mary Margaret remarks while she washes the dishes.  Anya wordlessly grabs a towel and starts drying.  “I think you understand him more than anyone else does, even Emma.”

              The younger Anastasia inside is broken, sobbing over Alexei’s lifeless body.  Grown-up Anya looks at Henry’s book lying on the counter and replies quietly, “I had a brother his age, once upon a time.”

              Snow White has lost as much family as Anya has during her life: mother, father, daughter.  But Mary Margaret doesn’t remember any of that, and Anya turns away before the woman can ask her what’s wrong.

              Because she doesn’t understand; none of them do.

*****

              That night, Anastasia wakes up screaming again. 

Emma lies awake for a long time after the stifled sobs turn into peaceful breathing.

*****

              Mary Margaret giggles as Anya stumbles downstairs, yawning.  “Not a morning person, I take it?” She shrugs into her coat and grabs her hat.

              Anya blearily shakes her head, then spots the envelope lying on what, after a week, she’s come to think of as _her_ chair.  “I forgot,” she says, fighting back a yawn as she hands the item to Mary Margaret, “I promised I would give this to you.”

              “Promised who?” Mary Margaret says as she rips open the envelope.

              “His name was… David something.”

              Mary Margaret’s hands pause, and she looks as though she might drop the letter she’s removing. “David Nolan?”  Anya nods, and the woman sighs.  “I haven’t got time for this,” she mutters, but reads his words anyway.

              Anya is watching to see what Snow’s reaction will be, but turns away when a tear slips down her cheek.  Not exactly what she was expecting, and now she feels bad for assisting Prince James… David, she reminds herself.

              She hears a sniff and then a quiet, “Damn him,” and whirls around to see Mary Margaret crumple up the paper and toss it in the trash before grabbing her purse and leaving.

              “Well,” says Anastasia, wandering into the kitchen to find something to eat.  “That is interesting.”  After she’s set a bowl of Lucky Charms on the counter and grabbed a spoon, she sits down to eat, and then immediately jumps back up. 

“Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back,” she mutters through a mouthful of cereal, smoothing out her trash-can prize.

*****

              Emma can’t get Anya’s scream out of her mind.  Although she knows that the girl wants something from her that Emma can’t give, she wants to do whatever it will take to stop her terrible nightmares.  Emma is all too used to waking up terrified in the darkness, an awful memory from her past seeming very real in the present.

              She also can’t bring herself to eat the bear claw that Mary Margaret gave her this morning, innocent of the pain it would cause Emma.  But she can’t imagine throwing it away, either, and so it just sits on a napkin on her desk, staring at her. 

              Damn, she wishes her life wasn’t such a mess.  Henry is the only good thing left in her life, and she’s pretty sure she’s screwing that up too.  It’s hard not to when she doesn’t believe in his fairy tales.

              The phone rings.  Emma misses the week when she had Ruby as an assistant so she didn’t have to deal with people calling to tell her their cat was missing or their neighbors were late getting home.

              “Sheriff’s office, Sheriff Swan speaking.”

              “Miss Swan,” Regina says, sounding mildly annoyed as usual.

              _Great_ , Emma sighs.  _Just when my day couldn’t get any worse._   “Yeah?”

              “We need to talk about Henry.”

              Emma wracks her brain but can’t figure out what Regina’s alluding to.  “Why? Did something happen? He’s okay, isn’t he?”

              Regina’s frustration is almost tangible.  “It’s more what hasn’t happened, or rather what he _thinks_ is going to happen.”

              “Okay, I’m stumped,” Emma concedes.  “Are you at your office?”

              “Of course.”

              Emma stands and grabs her keys.  “I’m coming over,” she tells the phone, and hangs up, flipping the sign on the front door to “Out” as she locks it.

              Two minutes later, she walks into Regina’s office without knocking.  Well, she wouldn’t leave the door unlocked if she didn’t want people to come in, right?

              Regina is sitting in her comfy office chair, and rather than take the hard-backed chair in front of her desk, Emma remains standing.  “Alright, what about Henry?”

              “Surely you’ve noticed the way he’s been acting lately.” Regina raises an eyebrow when Emma shrugs.  “No? Well, I thought we’d agreed to let the foolishness go, but now he’s gone back to skipping around chattering on about Little Red Riding Hood and fairies and lord knows what else. He’s agitated and he hasn’t been doing his homework on time. I want to know what’s going on.”

              Emma rolls her eyes.  “And you assume _I_ must be involved? With all due respect, Madam Mayor, I’ve been up to here with trying to look after your town. It hasn’t exactly been easy to keep up with lately, in case _you_ haven’t noticed.  Between that and your visiting rules, I’ve barely even _seen_ Henry, let alone had time to listen to his latest theories. The only people left to look after him since you and I are too busy are Mary Margaret, who gave him the book in the first place, and August, who has even crazier ideas than Henry.”

              “But he has theories again, that’s what bothers me.  He was supposed to be done fixating on that book, and the stories, but now he’s gone back to them.”

              “Do you want to know what I think?”

              “Not particularly, but get on with it.”

              “You keep saying he’s gone _back_ to the book. Maybe he’s retreating because he feels the same as he did before I came to town, because he’s getting lonely again. I think you ought to look at yourself when trying to place the blame, Regina, because my absence is why he clung to the stories in the first place.”  Emma storms out before Regina can retort.

              Regina leans back in her chair as the door slams, seething. Although even she has to admit Emma has a point, the Savior has grown much too comfortable insulting her Queen.  Pretty soon she’ll be trying to take over, and Regina is afraid she’ll lose Henry if things are allowed to get that far.

              What worries her more is what Emma slipped in without meaning to: Henry’s been hanging around with August, the writer.  That makes her think of yesterday—August and Anya walking together, and then riding off on his motorcycle.  Those two are plotting something, and knowing Henry as Regina does, guaranteed he’s got his nose in it.

              His fairytales, Regina realizes in horror.  Henry’s sudden interest in his storybook. Anastasia’s mysterious appearance.  It’s all connected.  Regina jumps up as it falls into place. 

They’re trying to break the curse.

Well, then.  They’ll need the Savior to do that, and Emma’s showing no signs of belief.  To ensure Regina’s hard work getting revenge hasn’t been for nothing, though, she’s going to take some preventative action.

              It’s time to get rid of Emma Swan, once and for all, especially if doing so will knock Henry’s fantasies to kingdom come.

*****

              “Hey, Henry,” Anya says, waving at Mary Margaret as she takes Henry with her from the school lawn. They walk to the police station to see what Emma is up to. Plus, it’s as private a place as any to come up with more ideas for breaking the curse.

              Emma is staring into space but swivels her chair when they enter.  “Hey kid.”  She ruffles Henry’s hair as she says to Anya, “Thanks for getting him.  Regina came by after lunch, and I’ve been backed up since.”

              “What’d _she_ want?” Henry says moodily.

              Emma widens her eyes at him.  “Kid, she _is_ your mom. Cut her a little slack.”

              “You are his mom, too, and he doesn’t cut you any,” Anya contributes.

              “You’re not helping my case,” Emma replies.  “Henry, she’s worried about you, and for once I think she has a point.  You’ve been acting really weird the last couple of days, and she thinks—we both think—it’s because of the fairytale delusion.”

              “It’s not a delusion! She’s been talking to Archie,” Henry objects.  “The stories are real.”

              “Look, kid, I’ve been thinking.  Maybe you should stop spending time with her,” Emma nods at Anya, who’s affronted, “and August.  It’s them who’ve made you retreat back.”

              “No!” Henry shouts.

              “He has been of enormous help to us,” Anya adds.  “You are being quite ridiculous, anyway.”  Henry nods agreement.

              Emma snaps at Anya, “I appreciate you watching him for me, but with all due respect, this is between me and my son.”

              Anya’s eyes are suddenly blazing, and Emma feels a twinge of regret for saying that.  “With all due respect, _Ms. Swan_ , though you are due none,” she spits, “August and Henry and I are trying to _help_ you, whether you like it or not.”

              “Where’d you get that?” Henry interjects suddenly, pointing at the turnover on a plate on Emma’s desk.

              “Regina brought it with her as an apology,” Emma replies.  “Apples aren’t my favorite, but I was gonna eat it for a snack later.”

              “NO!” Anya and Henry shout simultaneously.

              “It’s poison!” Henry adds.

              Emma rolls her eyes.  “See, this is why you have to stop believing the stuff the book tells you.  Why would Regina poison this at all? Especially when it’s an apology?”

              “Because she knows,” Anya says quietly.  Henry looks at her, eyes wide.  “I don’t know how, but she must have figured it out.  August and I had hoped…”

              “We talked about August,” Emma says reluctantly.  “About how Henry has been spending time with him and Mary Margaret. But I fail to see how-”

              “She saw me with him yesterday.  And whatever _you_ might believe, Emma,” She says, as the woman rolls her eyes, “Regina remembers _everything_.  We are ruined unless you can believe.”

              Emma shakes her head, holding up the turnover.  “I said something to August I’ll say again to you.  I didn’t ask for this.  My son came and found me.  I’ve had no control over _anything_ since day one.  I don’t _want_ to be the Savior, and no amount of poison or magic potion is going to change that.”

              “Then I’ll prove it to you,” Henry says, and before either woman can stop him, he’s grabbed the pastry from Emma’s plate and holds it up in his hand like a threat.  “You _have_ to break the curse, Mom.  You’re the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming.  It’s your destiny.”

              But Emma cannot agree.  “I’m sorry, Henry, but I’m not her.  If eating that will prove it to you, then okay.”

              Anya, panicked, throws out a hand toward Henry—but she’s forgotten that this is the Land Without Magic, and from a room of space between them, she watches the boy raise the turnover to his lips and take a bite.

              “You want some ice cream with that?” Emma smirks as he chews.

              And then he falls, falls, all the way down to the floor before Anastasia can reach him.  Emma is yelling and shaking him, and Anya reverently picks up the pastry by the boy’s hand before reaching for the Sheriff’s phone and dialing 911.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

              Regina is in the middle of terrifying the city legislature into signing her new proposal when they adjourn for the afternoon.  Already frustrated by their dragging feet, she’s not in the greatest mood when Sidney Glass bursts into her blessedly empty office.

              “Mayor Mills, I have the information you requested,” he gasps, handing her a folder before bending over, holding his side.

              She crooks an eyebrow at him and opens it.  “And you felt it necessary to run here because…”

              “I thought you would want to know as soon as possible,” he says, partially regaining his usual wily ways, “that the girl’s name is properly Anastasia, and she told your boy Henry at the diner yesterday morning that she is ‘Grand Duchess Anastasia’.  She also told him a story, only bits of which I could get out of—well, nevermind, but she referenced an assassination anda family called the Romanovs.  It seemed very fishy to me, and as soon as I had the story I came right over…”

              He trails off because Regina is staring at him openmouthed, and she never does that.  She glances down at the folder she has, flips a page, and motions him to continue as she skims.

              “She’s staying with Mary Margaret Blanchard… as you can see, I have some pictures from her meeting David Nolan outside the building last night before she went inside.  She spent most of yesterday with the writer, Mr. Booth—“

              Finally, Regina explodes.  “Stupid, stupid Regina, how dare I forget her? I thought she must be dead… but how would she have been drawn in… _Gold._ ”

              And before Sidney can make any sense out of that, she’s whipped out of the office, on a mission to meet Mr. Gold.

*****

The ambulance veers away, sirens shrieking.  Grand Duchess Anastasia Nikolaevna sits on the front step of the police station and wonders what to do now that her carefully-laid plan has gone to hell.

              The unsavory conclusion is that she has to go confront Regina in the desperate hope that wherever the apple magic came from, the Evil Queen has access to more.

              Great.  Confront the one woman she _especially_ wanted to avoid and reveal herself.  All in a day’s work.

              But when she arrives at the Mayor’s office, even though Regina was supposed to be in a meeting, there’s no one there.

*****

              Mr. Gold’s Pawn Shop door flies open, flinging a sudden ray of sunshine into the dark shop. 

              “What the hell did you do?”  Regina strides in, dark hair whipped back, and the way her jacket is blown out behind her is so like the Evil Queen that Mr. Gold can’t hide his Rumple-esque grin.

              “Dearie, you’re going to have to be more specific,” he replies, returning to carefully polishing a golden-hilted sword he knows will soon be in demand.

              “ _Anastasia,_ ” Regina hisses, and he nearly drops his work.  Regina doesn’t catch the slight fumble.  “I don’t know how you found her and brought her with us, but she _remembers,_ Gold, and she’s getting _my son_ involved in our history.” She slams her hand down on Mr. Gold’s counter to punctuate.  “I want it fixed.  _Immediately._ ”

              “I really have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says.

              Far from calming her, his remark only further infuriates Regina.  “Don’t play coy with me, _Rumplestiltskin_.  She’s trying to break the curse _you_ gave me. Do you really want her to get hurt because of you… again?”

              “You mean she’s here in Storybrooke?” He replies, and Regina experiences her first flicker of doubt.  “Because of us?”  Mr. Gold runs a hand through his hair.

              She cocks her head.  “You really didn’t know?”

              “She’s not likely to come talk to me about it, now is she, dearie?”

              “No, of course not.  I-“ Regina’s cell phone rings, and, exasperated, she digs it out of her purse to answer.  “Yes?”

              Her face goes white as snow.  “I’ll be right there,” she says, and flashes Mr. Gold an accidental look of pure terror as she tells him, “Henry,” and rushes out of the shop.

              In the moment before the door closes, Rumplestiltskin stares out after Regina.  His lips slowly curve up into a ghost of his old smile.

*****

             Anya needs backup—and now that she can’t find an Evil Queen to confront, she has time to find him.  She hasn’t seen August since yesterday, but he’s staying at Granny’s, so chances are that’s where she’ll find him.

             Unless he’s taken off on another adventure on his motorcycle, in which case she’s screwed.

             Anya runs down the sidewalk and cuts across Main Street, thinking nothing of cars and traffic, which she has had next to no experience with.  In any other city, her heedless crossing would’ve caused problems, but this is Storybrooke.

             Mary Margaret comes around the corner just before Anya reaches Granny’s diner.  Anya halts just in time to prevent them running into each other; she starts to stammer an apology and keep going, but notices that Mary Margaret has tears streaming down her cheeks. “Emma told you about Henry? How is he?”

            “W-what happened to H-Henry?” Mary Margaret stammers. Anya’s eyes widen. Mary Margaret continues, “I’m sorry, I just can’t get ahold of myself. David told me he’s leaving for B-Boston to try to clear his head because we can’t be together, and I feel like I’ve made a huge mistake. But what’s wrong with Henry?”

            “Oh dear,” Anya accidentally says aloud. Regina’s curse doesn’t do nice things to people who try to leave. She sits Mary Margaret down in one of Granny’s patio chairs, even though it’s wet. “Henry ate a poisoned apple turnover because Emma refused to believe in magic, and then he collapsed. Emma took him to the hospital. I ran to try and tell Regina but she’s not at her office. I need to find August now so we can try to figure out how to save Henry from the curse.”

            “I’ll go to the hospital and make sure Regina knows,” Mary Margaret says. “It’ll give me something useful to do. You go save Storybrooke.” Anya nods thankfully and opens the diner door.

            Mary Margaret calls after her, “You all are so convinced that it’s Emma, but I think you make a pretty good savior, Anya!”

            August isn’t in his usual counter spot, and when Ruby sees Anya looking around frantically she says, “I haven’t seen him since he came back yesterday evening. You might wanna try his room.”

            “Thanks!” Anya gasps, and dashes next door to Granny’s inn. She runs upstairs and pounds on August’s door, which creaks open unlocked. “Oh no,” she breathes, finally finding her friend.

             Pinocchio has turned back into a wooden toy, rather than a real boy. August is lying on his bed unmoving, entirely made of wood now. “No! I wanted to stop this from happening. What am I going to do without you, Pinocchio?” She closes his wooden eyes so it looks like he’s sleeping. “Now it’s up to me… and Emma… to break this curse. It’s the only way to save you. And I need to stop David from leaving!” she says to her friend, thinking aloud at this point. She sees August’s keys on his nightstand and groans. “This is crazy. Anya, you are crazy.” She grabs the keys, kisses August on the forehead, and heads back downstairs to the black and silver behemoth that he calls a motor-cycle.

             She has absolutely no clue how to steer the thing, but August did teach her what buttons and levers do, so she manages to start the engine and climb on. “I hope I do not kill myself trying to save this ridiculous town,” she mutters, and pushes the pedal that August said will put it in first gear. The motorcycle shoots forward, and Anya hangs on for dear life while also trying to steer. She makes it up into second gear and decides that’s good enough to get to the town line. Then she sees David’s truck way in front of her, and curses. She nudges the motorcycle into third and veers wildly up the center of the road, trying desperately to catch up with him. Luckily she does, and luckily there aren’t any cars in the other lane as she crosses into it. Anya can see the Storybrooke sign coming closer, and veers back in front of David, then slams on her breaks. He does too, and they both skid to a halt.

             “What the hell, August?” David shouts, opening his door and jumping out. Anya is struggling to figure out how to deploy the kickstand. She is successful, then tugs off August’s helmet before David can shove her like she knows he would shove August in anger.

             He halts. “Anya?”

*****

            Emma is having the worst day of her life, including the day she got sent to jail pregnant. No one at the hospital can tell her what’s wrong with Henry, and Mr. Gold tricked her out of the one shot she thought she had, a magic potion that she didn’t even really believe in but she slayed a fucking dragon for it, so it seemed worth it. She runs back down the sterile hospital hallway, defeated out of her last shot; and Regina just called to tell her that they’re losing Henry- sorry, the Evil Queen called. Emma’s basically lost track of who and where everyone is. The one thought she has, besides pure terror about losing her son, is regret that Anya doesn’t have a phone. She has no idea where the girl- the duchess? - went off to, and she’s terrified that she’ll miss saying goodbye to Henry before he… he dies.

           That’s her worst fear. Yet when she makes it to his hospital room, that’s what’s happening. Regina is sobbing. The nurses are sobbing. Dr. Whale even looks like he might shed a tear. Henry is just lying there. “What are you all doing?” she yells, rushing over to him. “You should be trying to save him!”

          “Emma,” Regina whispers.

           Emma halts. “Oh. No, no, no!” She sobs, clutching Henry’s chest. “I love you, Henry. Please come back to me.” She kisses him on the forehead.

           Then there’s a blinding rush of light and wind, and a rainbow wave shoots out from them in all directions.

*****

         “I’m sorry, David!” Anya begins. “I didn’t know how else to stop you! You cannot leave.”

          David sighs. “And I’m sorry, but I have to. It’s the right thing to do. I’ve hurt my wife and I’ve hurt Mary Margaret. I need to leave and get my shit together because clearly I don’t deserve either of them.”

           Anya pats him on the shoulder. “Obviously I disagree, but I actually meant that you physically _cannot_ leave Storybrooke. The curse keeps you all in. It will hurt you if you try, or maybe kill you.”

           “Henry’s curse? You believe in that? Mary Margaret said he was projecting his unhappiness onto that storybook she gave him.”

           Anya shakes her head, wishing she hadn’t gone down this path. She closes her eyes, signs through her nose, then holds David’s gaze with hers as she explains,  very seriously, “That book is telling the truth, David. It’s our history. But now Henry is paying the price for Regina’s curse and he needs our help. True love is supposed to break any curse. I have seen Prince Charming’s love for Snow White. I need you to believe. I need you to go find your true love and kiss her. It is the only way left that I can think of to save Henry.”

          “You really believe that I’m… I’m Prince Charming?” David says incredulously. Anya nods. “Then I suppose it’s my duty to try. I’m not saying I believe in the curse, exactly,” he adds quickly, seeing her excitement. “But I’d like to, mostly because it explains why I’m not still in a coma.”

          “Good enough for me,” Anya says. “Let’s go.” She opens the passenger door of his truck.

         “What about the bike?” David asks.

         “I would prefer not to drive that monstrosity again. It will be fine here, if we move it.” She and David maneuver the bike onto the shoulder of the road. “August will not be in a state to drive it anytime soon if we cannot break this curse,” she adds as David turns around. They fly back to town with the windows open. Anya leans out the window, the wind whipping her hair all around her face, and prays, _Please. Just this once, don’t rip the people I care about away from me. Let me save them._

         David pretty much ignores the traffic light, but seeing as the streets are eerily empty it doesn’t matter. When they finally reach the hospital parking lot, screech to a halt, and jump out, it feels like a summer thunderstorm is rolling in. Their feet have just hit the pavement when the wind suddenly roars, and a rush of rainbow light rolls across everything.

         Anya is startled, but unchanged. However, she turns to look at David as he gasps.

         “I remember.”

         She realizes in an instant what just happened. In the next, he adds, “Snow!” and then takes off running. She sees an instant later why that happened. Mary Margaret was walking up to the hospital doors when the curse got broken, and she’s standing there bemused on the sidewalk.

         “Charming!” she yells, and runs to meet him. David picks her up as she grabs his face with both hands. They kiss passionately, and he spins her around with joy. Anya grins and think to herself that their true love’s kiss would totally have broken the curse if Emma hadn’t- easy to say now that it was, of course- and then she tries not to watch, waiting several minutes while they gaze into each other’s eyes and Charming babbles an apology and Snow cries because _He’s alive_.

          Finally Mary Margaret pulls back and notices Anya. “You stopped him from leaving, didn’t you?” Anya nods. Mary Margaret hugs her tightly and unexpectedly. “You kept Henry believing, too! Thank you!”

          Anya smiles and hugs her back. “You’re very welcome. I am just glad that everyone remembers themselves now and I’m not responsible for keeping Our World’s memory alive.”

          Mary Margaret looks at Anya’s face deeply and then frowns. “I’m sorry, but I still don’t remember you from there,” she says finally. “We were both princesses, and you clearly know me, but…”

          Anya laughs. “It is all right, you were a young child the one time we were acquainted in person. I would not expect you to remember me. If _I_ remember correctly, by the time you lost your mother I had already had to hide for good.” She sees Snow White’s questioning gaze, and knows what she’s about to ask. “I promise I will tell you my story later, but right now I think we should go find Emma and Henry.”

           “What is _that_?” They hear David say. The women whirl around to see a high wall of purple smoke barreling toward them, with what seems like lightning flashing within. Charming wraps his arms protectively around Snow, but Anya’s face lights up and she runs out to meet the smoke, dancing gleefully across the parking lot.

           It rushes over them, burying Storybrooke in darkness.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

         The fog clears, and Snow and Charming watch Anastasia stare at her hands as she holds them palms-up in front of her. She frowns and comes trotting back over to them.

         “Was that something good?” Mary Margaret asks. “Because to me it seemed awfully similar to the darkness that came over Our World when Regina’s curse was cast.”

          “Well, I _think_ that that was some sort of wave of magic, in which case you are mostly correct. However,” she stares at her palm again, “it does not seem to be working properly, so maybe it is not magic after all—yes!” Suddenly there’s a small orange-ish flame flickering in one hand, as though her palm is a lit candle.

          The Charmings stare at it, a little shocked—a carryover from their cursed selves. “I am assuming this is Rumplestiltskin’s doing, although perhaps Regina…” she trails off, not entirely because the hospital door they meant to enter is opening.

          Emma comes out. In the moment Snow and Charming see her, total stillness falls over the whole group. Anya backs up and leans against the side of the building, trying to be invisible. Actually, if she wanted to be literally invisible she probably could now, but she doesn’t try.

          When parents and child are done hugging and sobbing in each other’s arms, Emma tells them all what had happened. “And Henry’s fine now,” she adds afterward. “Come see him! He’ll be thrilled to hear that he pegged your real identities right. Although Regina was still with him when I left, and I don’t know how you feel…”

         “Well,” Snow says hopefully, “If we’re going to work on forgiving each other, might as well start now.”

          Now Anya really wishes she _had_ become invisible, because she knows Emma’s invitation extends to her, but she does _not_ want to face Regina right now. But she wants to see Henry, at least so that he can gloat about being right all along and she can tell him who finally got Emma to believe; that in the end, she and August could’ve plotted all they wanted but it was Henry who had the power.

          So she follows Prince Charming, Snow White, and Princess(?) Emma through the hospital to the ICU. Henry still looks scarily pale, and tiny suspended in a huge hospital bed, but he sits up immediately when they all come in.

          Regina, sitting right beside him, looks like she’s both pissed off and scared witless.

          “Miss Blanchard- I mean, Grandma!” Henry bursts out. Snow, laughing through her tears, rushes to hug him, Charming attached to her side.

          Emma nudges Anya’s shoulder with hers. “I need a minute to breathe. I’m outside if they ask, all right?” Anya nods, watching, out of the corner of her eye, Regina watching Emma leave and then staring at Anya.

          Henry summons Anya to his bedside and then flings his arms about her neck. “We did it, right? Everyone remembers!”

          Anya laughs and hugs him back. “You got Emma to believe, so I would say that _you_ did it, actually.”

          “Yeah, but you and August helped,” he protests. “And you yelled at my mom for trying to make me stop reading the Book; that was pretty awesome.” Barely audibly, Regina laughs overhearing this. “What was that purple fog for, though? Do you know?”

          Henry can fire questions one after the other for days, Anya knows, but she doesn’t mind. She leans in close and fake-sneakily whispers, “Watch this.” She holds out her palm, making the candle flame flicker there again, with some effort.

          Henry’s mouth drops open. “It’s magic!?” He loudly whispers back. “You didn’t tell me you could do magic!”

          “It did not seem a relevant fact until five minutes ago when magic was brought to this land.” She pointedly meets Regina’s gaze.

          “As far as I know, that was not a part of my curse,” she says, a tad sheepishly. “I’m guessing Gold is playing his usual games.”

          Anya blurts, “Where is that girl… what is her name- Belle? If I am right, and you are playing games with him back, you may want to do something about Belle, wherever she is. I do not want to know, I’m sure.” Regina purses her lips and nods.

          “You also should probably hide,” Snow puts in. “The majority of town is going to very angry once they get their wits about them, and realize what you’ve done and that we’re still here rather than in our land. Which, by the way, is something I’m wondering also.” The look of hatred that Anya finds so disconcerting automatically returns to Regina’s eyes when Snow speaks. She sees hatred in Snow’s eyes too, but also a sort of sympathy.

          “There wasn’t a return clause,” Regina retorts. “I suppose this is my cue to disappear, then.” Anya stares down at the floor then, aware that Regina will be looking at her again, wanting to talk, but she’s still not ready for that conversation yet. “Emma knows where to find me. Henry, I love you and I’ll see you soon.” She kisses him swiftly on the forehead. “I wonder if I can just…” she dramatically waves her hand a couple times. Nothing.

          “It is different in this land,” Anya remarks softly. Regina looks at her sharply. “I am going to go speak with Rumple, do not worry. I wish I’d been brave enough to do it earlier.”

          Regina tilts her head. “You remembered the whole time, didn’t you?”

          Anya nods. And without a word, Regina purses her lips and leaves—through the door.

          “She was going to disappear into a swirl of smoke, wasn’t she?” Anya asks Snow, who nods. “Oh, I do not like that,” Anya remarks.

          In a few minutes, they’re getting Henry checked out and Emma comes back. They explain to Emma about Regina, who is happy to have her out of the way at least; the Rumplestiltskin thing is concerning to her though. “Is that safe, now that he’s got magic? Isn’t he, like…”

          “The Dark One,” David says.

          Emma furrows her brows. “Yeah, see, that name doesn’t exactly reassure me. You sure going alone is the best plan?”

          “You are right, he is the Dark One, and that has its danger,” Anya replies carefully. “However, I also have my magic back now, and by now my abilities match his. Although…um… I am worried about being able to control myself when we meet.” She pauses. “Perhaps, Emma, if you would be willing to come with me?”

          Mary Margaret makes a small noise but Emma nods. “I’ll bring my new sword, _mom_ ,” she assures Mary Margaret. “Can you guys take Henry home with you?”

          Henry is still too tired from his ordeal to protest, and soon Anya and Emma are trudging up a hill toward the source of the smoke.

          “You think he’s still gonna be up here?” Emma asks doubtfully.

          Anya shrugs. “Honestly, I do not know. But Rumplestiltskin likes to have an advantage, so my instinct says that he will be at the source trying to understand magic’s flow in this place.”

          When they reach the end of their paved path, they’re at an old-fashioned well amidst the trees, like the one in the Snow White movie, Emma thinks. It’s in remarkably good repair for being a well in 2012.

          Rumple, of course, is next to it. Oddly, he’s seated on the ground. “Who’s come to see me?” He lilts, in a voice that’s halfway between suit-wearing Mr. God and Rumple spinning madly at his wheel. He looks up, and the mad grin fades. “Ah. Regina said you were here.” He quickly stands up and, executing a bow, continues, “Your Royal Highness. I admit, coming back from the dead is a rather surprising accomplishment.”

          Anastasia does not allow him to kiss her hand, which would’ve been the next step in the courtship game that he had rarely played with her anyway. “You overestimated Her power and underestimated mine. Hello, Rumple.”

          Emma gapes at Rumple. “Did Henry tell you who I…” Anya starts, and Emma nods silently.

          “You’ve brought the Savior with you, so you must require something, besides an apology.”

          Emma speaks. “Yeah. Were you the one who made that purple fog happen?”

          “That would seem rather obvious, dearie.”

          “How did you get magic _here?_ ” Anya blurts.

          “I’m not saying it _was_ magic, dearie. I shan’t be giving all my secrets away.”

          Anya rolls her eyes and shards of colored glass come streaming out of the well. Rumple and Emma watch wide-eyed as the glass reassembles itself into a stoppered, translucent magenta bottle in midair. Anya scoffs at Rumple. “So, a potion.”

          “Impressive as always, Anastasia.”

          “You haven’t answered the question,” Emma points out.

          He looks at Anya when he answers. “The same reason I’ve made many terrible deals, including the one Her Highness wishes to exact vengeance for. You know who I’m searching for.”

          Anya unconsciously glances sideways at Emma, but it seems like neither of them are aware of the Baelfire connection. “That’s why we weren’t sent home when she broke the curse, isn’t it?”

          “Technically speaking, this world is yours. You should be glad…” Rumple trails off as the potion bottle breaks into several sharp-edged shards of glass that rotate to point at him. One moves forward so it’s only inches from his throat.

          “Anya,” Emma warns. Anya uncurls her hand, and the glass falls to the ground.

          “Search for your son,” Anya says, beginning to walk away. Dusk is quickly darkening the forest around them, and she conjures her candle again. “I don’t care. But leave us all alone, or I’ll hurt you. I should hurt you, for what you’ve done.”

          When they’re back in Emma’s Bug, Anya covers her face with her hands, which Emma notices are shaking, and swears in Russian. “Please do not tell Henry I just did that,” she tells Emma.

          Emma glances over while she drives. “What’s wrong?”

          “This is how people like Regina turn dark,” Anya responds unsteadily. “My hatred of him is pushing me dangerously close to the line.”

          “He did something horrible to you, didn’t he? To your family?”

          Anya stares resolutely out the window and Emma can barely hear her response. “Yes. He betrayed us. He’s the reason they were killed.”

*****

          There’s a rather cramped situation when they get back to Mary Margaret’s apartment because of the addition of Henry and David to their living arrangements. Anya feels very awkward in the middle of a suddenly-reunited family. The obvious solution is that she should go live somewhere else, which she proposes to them. Emma protests, and Mary Margaret gently suggests that they leave off talking about that until later, so Anya gets thoroughly shut down.

          The next morning over breakfast, Anya privately plans to check out the Mad Hatter’s abandoned house. The whole family could fit there, or if they’re really going to insist on continuing to live in this apartment, she can go there with August.

          “August!” She exclaims aloud. Everyone else startles, but she’s already putting on her shoes. “Before the Curse broke, he turned entirely to wood. I do not know if he is okay now.”

          “I’m coming with you! He’s my friend too,” Henry declares. Emma objects. “It’s on my way to school, and Grandma already left so Anya might as well walk me,” he says. “I promise I won’t be late.”

          “Remember that you do not have to be worried about Regina taking him anymore,” Anya  points out, and motions Henry out the door before David or Emma can come with them. When they’re pacing quickly along the sidewalk—Henry is practically jogging with eagerness—Anya warns, “Henry, he might not be alright. I mean, he may not have survived being wood without magic around.”

          Henry nods seriously. “I can handle it. Knowing is better than wondering.”

          Granny must be at the diner, but Ruby smiles at them when they careen into the lobby of the inn. Henry immediately starts up the stairs to August’s room but Anya manages to greet her first, which actually is kind of nice because she doesn’t already know Red Riding Hood.

          However, when Anya reaches the top of the staircase, Henry has already knocked and opened August’s door. He comes back out with a concerned look on his face. “What?” she breathes.

          He opens the door wider and Anya can instantly see that there’s no one in the room, and all of August’s belongings are gone as well. “He left.”

         “There’s no note, is there?” She knows the answer but there’s that pesky hope again.

         Henry shakes his head, then grins. “But now we have a new mystery to solve! I have to go to school now, though.”

         Back downstairs, Anya quickly asks Ruby when August checked out. She replies, “I don’t know exactly. His key was on the counter when I arrived this morning. Maybe it’s because of the curse breaking?” Anya thanks her and they scamper out before Henry has to go back on his promise to Emma and be late.

*****

         After Anya leaves Henry at the gate to school, she decides to walk down to the dock. Her family has been invading her mind more strongly than ever since last night. She leans on a railing, looking out at the ocean, and lets them overtake her.

         She sees her sisters down on the pebbly beach, splashing their feet in the water and skipping stones across it. The auburn hair they all share is flowing free, and they wear casual boating clothes rather than their formal court attire. This must be a memory from when Anya was young, because her oldest sister seems barely a teenager here. Olga turns to Maria and teaches her how to palm a flat rock properly for throwing. Tatiana is leaned over, searching among the rocks for the prettiest one.

         “Anastasia,” a voice says, and Anya startles. Regina leans on the railing next to her. “Can we talk?”

         Anya glances back at the beach, but her sisters have disappeared. She sighs, “Yes.”

         “I—um—” Regina stutters, “I’m still somewhat astonished that you’re here. Alive, I mean—but also here in Storybrooke! I realize that I never truly understood all the side effects of Rumple’s curse, but I know it surely didn’t include… the deceased.”

          Anya says quietly, looking out at the sea, “Because I never died. I also am not learned about the curse, but I do not think I was brought _by_ it so much as I came _with_ it. Not that I had a choice; wood carvers and princesses do not consider a tree’s feelings when carving her into a wardrobe.”

         “ _You_ were the _wardrobe_? But how in the world—you protected Emma and Pinocchio from me, all that time.”

         “Defense mechanism,” Anya responds to the first question, and to the second, “Yes, although you give me credit for more influence than I really had. I made sure she did it, though. Broke the curse. I had to honor our pact, remember?” Regina startles. "After everything between us, I could not bear to destroy you.” Anya finished the sentence in a whisper and looks away. “So I settled for destroying your curse instead. It was essentially the expression of your darkness. You scare me, being like this. In the same breath, I am deeply disappointed in you.”

         A breath. “I am truly sorry,” Regina responds. “Though that’s not all you’re upset with me for—what else is it?” She places a hand on Anya’s arm but the other woman flinches away, blinking back tears.

         “You didn’t look for me,” Anya whispers, and backs up to sit down on a bench, knees weak. She is, as always, trying to be stoic; but her shoulders quiver with repressed sobs.

         Regina sits next to Anya and asks, “May I tell you a story? I’m not trying to earn your forgiveness this way but I at least want you to know what happened.” Anya nods mutely.

         “I rode to Alexander Palace as soon as you and Rumple didn’t appear for our lesson.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

       Regina streaks through the forest, a black cloak atop a black horse. A feeling tells her that something is very wrong, but she can’t name why. When she arrives at the Alexander Palace, residence of the Romanov family, it is a mess. The entrance doors are hanging open.

       She goes inside, hesitatingly, and the air reeks of blood and gunpowder. In the ballroom, she finds Rumpelstiltskin; but he’s changed, he is in one of his Crazy Dark-One periods suddenly. Regina tries to get him to tell her what had happened, because there are pools of dried blood all over the dais. Eventually in his cackling he says that the family is all gone and dead, and buried in the forest.

       “All of the Romanov family?” She tries to clarify.

       He just kept repeating, “They’re in the forest. Buried in the forest.” So Regina goes to the forest.

       What sixteen-year-old, relatively innocent Regina finds behind the palace where it meets with the trees doesn’t bear description. Regardless, the hastily inscribed wooden sign placed there too has seven names on it.

       Nikolai, Alexandra, Olga, Tatiana, Maria, Anastasia, Alexei.

       Seven names. One would assume, seven bodies. She touches the letters that spell ‘Anastasia’. This must be another cruel trick from Rumpelstiltskin. It isn’t real. It couldn’t be.

       “Oh, Regina, my dear!” From nowhere, she appears. “What on Earth are you doing here? There’s been a tragedy!”

       “You were here?” Regina says haltingly, as a woman elegantly dressed all in dark maroon comes striding toward her. She has dark brown hair and Regina’s stature.

       Cora wraps her hand through Regina’s elbow and ushers her away from the mass grave, back toward her horse, who now suddenly has Cora’s standing next to him. “I wish you hadn’t had to see that,” Cora says. “I was hoping to come home and break the news to you gently, but here we are.”

       They have almost reached their mounts before the ramifications sink in. “You—what were you doing here already?” Regina accuses, shakily.

       Cora shakes her head. “I know you don’t mean to speak that way, dear. It’s the shock. Unfortunately, the whole Romanov family is beyond saving. Even your darling Anastasia. I’m so sorry.”

       Regina snaps out of her trance-like state and actually feels the shock. “No you’re not, because you were _involved_. What DID YOU DO TO THEM?” Now she’s definitely yelling. And then she freezes, because Cora has taken control of her.

       “I won’t countenance you speaking to me in that tone. We’re going home now.” Cora waves her hand and Regina is forced to mount her horse.

       As their horses begin walking away from the Alexander Palace, Cora finishes, “I didn’t cause anything worse to happen than what was already meant to befall them before they ran away from their problems. Anyway, I warned you that she wasn’t right for you.”

       Regina can’t even form words, so she sits meekly and silently all the way home, tears streaming down her cheeks.

*****

       “Soon after that, I was married off to King Leopold, Snow’s father, but I suppose you know that. That day… well, it’s when I began letting the darkness into my heart. It started with despair; I wasn’t strong enough to withstand losing you. And then hatred of my mother took hold of that and it grew. My heart grew so black that it forgot what love felt like. All I can say to you now is that I’m sorry. I should’ve gone back to that grave someday, but I couldn’t summon the courage to.”

       Regina stops talking finally. She’s been staring at her clasped hands, at the water, anywhere but at Anya while she explains herself.

       A decision is made in the long-broken heart of a no-longer-quite-so young woman. It’s not forgiveness; it’s absolution from an overabundance of guilt.

       Anastasia slowly, carefully reaches out one hand and then the other, pressing them gently along Regina’s jawline. She nudges Regina’s chin up so she’ll meet Anya’s gaze. And then, in a moment neither of them had thought would ever be possible again, Anya kisses her.

      Anya feels Regina’s arms wrap around her as she kisses back after a few heart-pounding seconds. They are both utterly lost in the moment.

       Suddenly they’re both vividly recalling another moment just like this. The two of them are standing in a sunlit glade in the forest, both teenagers again. They’re wearing dresses and cloaks against the autumn chill. Regina’s hands are wrapped around Anya’s back in just the same way, between her brown cloak and amber dress. Regina’s dress is identical to the crimson leaves that are drifting down onto them, landing in their hair; but they don’t at all notice. Their lips fit together, they are lost in this stolen moment.

       In the present, Anya breaks the kiss and sits back, leaving a hand resting on Regina’s arm. “This does not mean that I forgive you, and I definitely do not condone you being the… the Evil Queen now.” She looks away, blushing. “But I will say that I had a very long time to think, as a tree, and in all that time, my feelings for you remained.”

       Regina’s eyes become wet, which is not exactly what Anya was going for. Paired with the all-black and dark hair look she has going on now as the Evil Queen, Anya gets a fleeting sense of funeral.

       “I don’t deserve you,” Regina says. “And you’re not going to like who I’ve become. But darling, I’m so glad you’re alive!” She hugs Anya quickly, and then she’s striding away, wiping the tears from her eyes, the Evil Queen resuming her role.

*****

       Anya needs a long time to regain herself after that conversation, so she curtails her visit to Jefferson’s house and instead takes a walk through the woods, pretending to look for traces of August. She figures that, if he’s still a wooden man instead of flesh, he’d take refuge in the place he understands.

       Really that’s a lie; after so long being a tree, Anya is the one who feels like the forest is her safe place. She runs her hand along the rough surfaces of the trees as she passes them. For the first time since she was released, the wish in her heart is to be a tree again. Indirect interaction with humans is so much easier.

       Late that afternoon Anya winds up at the sheriff’s station, intending to ask Emma to take her out to the town line in her squad car to pick up August’s bike before they head home for dinner. Emma is busy on the phone when she arrives, though, and she sets the receiver down with a worried look on her face. “That was a nurse from the Psych ward at the hospital. They’ve had a patient escape and can’t find her on hospital property.”

       “Did they say who the patient is?”

       Emma shrugs. “Apparently during the curse they all had numbers and names, but obviously they were their cursed names so no. All I have is a description: brown hair with bangs, blue eyes, about 5’3”. She was designated completely insane but nonviolent so mostly she’s a danger to herself.” Emma focused on Anya and realizes, “You came here for a reason, though; something you need me to do?”

       Anya waves a hand. “Nothing of import, I just owe August his bike, but he has disappeared anyway.”

       “Alright. Now I’ve gotta go look for her,” Emma sighs. “She must be dangerous, if she was able to escape a locked cell.”

       Anya swallows. “What if she had assistance?”

       Emma pauses in the middle of pulling on her red jacket and raises an eyebrow at Anya. “What’re you thinking?”

       “Rumplestiltskin. If he found out where Belle was, he would get her out. Do you know where Regina was keeping—”

       “I don’t, but it’s possible.” Emma snaps into action. “Come on. Let’s check Gold’s shop first.” She starts for the door, then stops to look back at Anya. “Are you coming?”

       Anya grins at the assumption that she’ll be involved. She follows.

****

       But Mr. Gold’s Pawn Shop is dark, and Emma realizes that she doesn’t know where he lives- above the shop? They instead go to the Psych Ward, and Nurse Ratched shows them a haggard photo of the escaped woman, named Sarah during the curse.

       “Is that Belle?” Emma asks Anya, who shrugs.

       “I never met her in our world.”

       They’re driving back to the sheriff’s station when Anya shouts and Emma jerks the car to a stop in the middle of the street. The woman, now wearing a dress instead of hospital-issue shirt and pants, is wandering away from Gold’s shop, looking slightly confused.

       “Hey!” Emma calls, as she jumps out. Anya holds Emma back, noticing how the woman jumped at the noise.

       “Gently,” she urges. She offers a curtsy. “Are you Belle?” It’s a reflex, one Anya knows no royal person can resist.

       She curtsys back, rather awkwardly in a short gown. “Yes, I am. I do not recognize you, my apologies.”

       “Grand Duchess Anastasia Nikolaevna, of Alexander Palace.” She pivots the topic. “Have you seen Rumpelstiltskin recently?”

       Belle tilts her head. “How did you already know… never mind. Yes, he saved me from a rather horrible imprisonment where I’ve apparently spent the last twenty-eight years. We’ve had a row, though, because he is being the Dark One again.”

       Emma jumps in. “I’m sorry about that, but—where is he now?”

       “As far as I know, he stayed in his cottage… or I suppose it’s rightly a shop, isn’t it… when I left. He was still angry with the Evil Queen for locking me up, and probably is angry with me now too.”

       Anya’s heart sinks. Belle must be able to see how Anya feels from her face because she adds, “Oh, do not worry, Rumple would never harm me. I also made him promise not to hurt the Queen, mostly because I heard a rumor with truth in it that he contributed to her forming the Curse, so I do not believe she’s entirely to blame.”

       “Did you specify directly or indirectly?”

       Belle shakes her head. “Is that really necessary?” Just then from a distance, they hear an eerie, high-pitched moan. Belle gasps. “What was that?”

       Anya grimaces grimly. “I am assuming it is whatever creature your dear Rumple has summoned to kill Regina for him.”

       Anya looks around wildly, but the source of the noise isn’t evident. A dry wind suddenly picks up, blowing so hard that their hair flies straight backward. Over the rush, Emma shouts, “What the hell did Rumple bring?”

       Anya shakes her head hopelessly. “Do you know where Regina is hiding? We need to warn her!”

       “Yes. Come on!” She gestures at Belle. “Get inside. Granny’s diner is right there,” she points, “It’s safe.”

       Snow and Charming come trotting down the street to them, into the wind. “What’s going on?” Snow yells. The wind suddenly lets up.

       “Mr. Gold summoned some evil creature, Anya says to kill Regina. We’ve gotta go tell her.”

       “I saw her go into her house earlier,” Charming says, “although she’s supposed to be hiding.”

       “I will go now.” Anya turns.

       “Wait for us!” Snow exclaims; Anya looks a little confused, but Snow motions to Emma’s Bug.

****

       They find Regina downing a glass of whiskey in her living room. “Looks like the cavalry’s here,” she quips, only half-sarcastically. “Not much you do for me, though.” She finishes the glass and slouches forward, elbows on knees. Anya feels a strange rush of attraction for this pose while everyone else is discomforted by Regina’s casualness, so unlike Mayor Mills.

       At their questioning looks, she continues, “You just missed Rumple coming by to gloat. He’s quite proud of himself for managing to both summon a djinn here and contract it to kill me.”

       Anya lets out a long swear in Russian.

       “Gesundheit,” Regina responds reflexively, then grins. Anya put on a faux-pissed off expression that doesn’t quite cover her return grin. Emma’s gaze flicks back and forth between the two of them but she maintains a carefully neutral expression.

       Snow says, “Excuse me, a what?”

       Anya responds, “A djinn. It is an ancient desert spirit, very powerful and difficult to capture. They help or harm humanity as they please.”

       “You know that blue man from that movie Henry used to lie… Aladdin? The genie. That’s the child-appropriate version of a djinn, except real djinn don’t go around granting wishes and god forbid you try to put one in a lamp,” Regina finishes.

       “Then how did Rumple tell one to kill you?” Emma puts in.

       Anya answers, “A person who releases a djinn can force it to act, as a condition of release. It must complete its task, or it will burn out, won’t it?” Regina shrugs.

       “So how do we defeat it?” Charming is still standing just inside the doorway. Regina and Anastasia look at each other.

       At the same time as Anya says, “We didn’t learn that,” Regina says, “We can’t.”

       There’s a piercing moan again carrying over the wind. The mayor’s elegant front door swings open, seemingly of its own accord. Wind whistles across the room so hard that a couple of them have to take a step backward. It’s a hot, arid wind completely unlike the ice Siberian or damp Boston winds that Anya and Emma know. Charming jumps aside as, with the wind, comes an enormous force that heaves into the room and tosses Regina up against a wall. It’s like her breath has left her because she doesn’t even scream.

       Anya suddenly recalls that djinni are invisible by default.

       And then she recalls that they’re fire-based.

       “Turn on all the faucets!” She yells to the others, then uses magic to flick the handle on the kitchen sink that’s in her line of sight. The water bends and streams toward Anya instead of falling. It begins to pool before her hands and she blasts it toward Regina—or rather, the djinn she knows is hovering somewhere in front of Regina—with a lot more force than physics should give it. The thin stream becomes like a fire hose and Snow, Charming, and Emma turn on all the bathroom sinks and showers. The spray reveals the form of the djinn and has the added benefit of forcing it to flame up to protect itself.

       Anya gasps. Emma swears. Regina, being suffocated by a spinning cloud of dust, can only widen her eyes.

       It stretches from floor to ceiling, a thin man-shaped shadow made entirely of fire, which flickers and twists in tongues of crimson and orange and sapphire. The center of the djinn is a white-hot ball of flame. The creature floats eerily within its wind-cloud, not scorching anything around it; Anya can’t feel any heat radiating from it.

       The tide of water is finally so strong that it pushes the djinn backwards incrementally, although its fire remains unharmed. Snow flies across the room heedlessly and slides in front of Regina, waving her arms like a crazy woman. Her idea works, though. The combination of her disturbing the air and Anya’s firehose causes the djinn to lose its hold on Regina. Letting out a shriek, it disengages and rushes back out the way it came in, shattering a silver-framed mirror in the entryway as it exits.

       Regina drops, and Snow catches her. She coughs roughly for a long time, spitting on a mouthful of dust.

       “You all right?” Emma asks, and Regina nods weakly as she catches her breath. “Is it gone?” Emma asks, turning to Anya, who has sunk into a couch, exhausted.

       She shakes her head. “We mostly just surprised it. It will have to regather strength, and then it will come back for her.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

        The next morning, after they’ve all had a night of either sleep or, in most cases, lying awake in terror and dread staring at the ceiling, Mary Margaret removes a whistling teapot from the stove and brings it to the living room to pour hot water into the perfectly matched set of black-and-white-striped porcelain mugs that David has set out on the coffee table. They all sit in silence for a few minutes, while their tea bags steep. Anya is the first to move; she rises from her lying position, tries to sip the tea, burns the tip of her tongue, blows suspiciously freezing cold air from her mouth for a few seconds, and then chugs her tea before lying back down on the couch with her eyes firmly closed.

         Everyone else begins to drink slowly, blowing on the liquid between sips. That’s the only sound in the room, until Anya starts upright with a gasp. “I have it!”

         Snow nearly spills her whole cup down her front, Charming reaches one hand toward a scabbard that’s non-existent at his waist, and Regina merely raises an eyebrow.

         “The hat! It is our solution!”

         Emma is the first to gain her senses. “Jefferson’s hat?”

         Anya nods. “It is a portal. He can control it, so we must be able to somehow.”

         “Send the djinn away, rather than trying to stop it,” Regina muses.

         Charming adds, “As much as I like to just kill monsters and have done with them, it does seem like a better solution for something we have no way to kill.”

         “One problem: neither you nor I know how to control that hat.”

         “You have used a mirror as a portal before, it I am not mistaken,” Anya quips back to Regina, whose mouth drops open. “Most likely, you are capable of figuring it out.”

         “How—”

         “It was made of wood, milaya.”

          Regina blushes at Anya but luckily Mary Margaret has already started talking. “Let’s go, then, no sense in waiting. It’s still at Jefferson’s house, isn’t it?” Anya nods.

          “While you all do that, I’m going to go get a spell book from my vault that might contain useful instructions.” When they protest, Regina acquiesces, “Emma can come with me, not that you can actually protect me from the djinn if it comes back.”

          There’s a general kerfluffle as they arise and compose themselves. Emma makes a quick phone call to Ruby to ask her to pick Henry up from school later and keep him at Granny’s diner with her until further notice.

          The two groups separate after they pass through the Mills’ white picket fence, with a quick hug between Snow and her daughter. Regina touches Anya’s hand for the briefest of moments before she turns away.

*****

          “This place still creeps me out. I can’t imagine how you must feel.” Snow carefully avoids a piece of broken glass as she steps through the Mad Hatter’s front door.

          Anya successfully conceals a shiver and shrugs nonchalantly. “It was unfortunately not the worst entrapment I have been caught in, and at least the poor man has the excuse of being quite mad.”

          Snow and Charming start upstairs as though to search the rooms up there, but Anya calls them back and points at the hat, set on a side table just inside the door. “August threw it inside before we left. You can look around if you so wish, though; it is a lovely and well-appointed house. In addition, the bedrooms have doors and locks.”

          Charming laughs. “Ah, I see your play. You find us the money to buy this house and then maybe we’ll think about reconsidering its creepiness factor.”

          “Rebuttal received. I suppose it is time to go, then, now we have this.” Anya gingerly picks up the hat, sitting upside-down with its pink silk interior exposed.

          “You think you guys can get it to work?” David asks, a little skeptically.

          Anya just rolls her eyes. “Have some faith, shepherd.”

*****

          “Do you really think this is gonna work?” Emma asks.

          Regina rolls her eyes and keeps searching her bookshelf of magic books.

          “Sorry, it’s just I wasn’t sure if you actually believe it or you’re just playing along for Anya’s sake. Or because you don’t have a better idea.”

          “That last is true too, but I do actually think the hat could work. Anyway, as you’ve seen, Anya is often correct.” Her lips quirk, and she pauses. “Here we are.” She pulls down a thick volume in black binding, with a hand-written cover and less of a dust coating than most of her collection. “I’ve had cause to use Rumple’s teachings before, and here they come in handy again. He has a proclivity for certain terrible curses, oddly enough.”

          She flips hastily through the pages and Emma waits in silence for a few minutes, during which she wanders around the vault satisfying her curiosity once Regina’s not looking.

          “I’m starting to think I was wrong and we never learned about trapping djinn.” Regina goes quiet for another few minutes, but this time Emma hears the sound of pen on paper. She turns around and Emma gets caught about to touch the feathers of a stuffed bird.

          “Emma, don’t touch that! He’ll be revived. I, um… please keep this just in case.” She hands Emma a folded piece of notepaper with _Henry_ written on the outside in her flowing handwriting.

          Emma raises an eyebrow but takes the paper and sticks it in her pocket. “In case what?”

          It’s very quiet and candles-flickering in the vault. “In case the djinn succeeds in killing me.”

          Emma shakes her head and tries to hand the paper back to Regina. “That’s not gonna happen, and anyway it’s bad luck to do stuff like this.”

          They both go silent as, outside the vault door, the wind picks up. Regina looks plaintively at Emma. “Please.”

          So the paper goes back in a pocket of Emma’s red leather jacket, and she tentatively ascends to see if Rumple’s nightmare gift to Regina has come back for round two yet.

*****

          When they pull up on Main Street in the pickup truck, right outside the well-tended cemetery, the power lines around them are trembling and the remains of last autumn’s leaves are rising from their long-forgotten piles to tumble through the air.

          “It’s coming,” Anya remarks grimly. “Take the hat to Regina and Emma. Get the trap set.”

          Snow pauses, one hand on the wrought iron gate with _Storybrooke Cemetery_ engraved in careful lettering. “I thought you were helping Regina with that?”

          She shakes her head and plants her feet in the middle of the street, saying quickly, “We will have to adjust plans because the djinn is coming _now_. I am going to hold it off to give you time. NOW GO!” She has to raise her voice to a shout as the wind becomes a howl, a scream, a shriek.

          The shriek becomes a thin line of white-hot flame that shoots down the street toward them. Anya throws both hands straight out in front of her and yells a word, in a language that’s not Russian. The fire hits a barrier just before searing her hands, and its momentum changes—it arches out around a hemisphere of, seemingly, air. Anya has formed a shield.

          “ _Go!_ ” She screams. Snow swings the gate open and Charming runs after. They pause to look back when Anya suddenly shouts, wordlessly.

          The djinn emerges from its invisibility, the manlike form returned and now entirely blue-white hot. The Charmings sprint toward Regina’s crypt.

          Emma sees them coming and yells back down to Regina, “They’ve got the hat! Hurry, the wind is getting insane.” She runs out to meet her parents, the wind whipping her long curls into a wild halo behind her. “Anya?”

          “She’s holding it off,” David gasps, gesturing behind them. Emma can just make out a small figure and a brilliantly white line of light. “Regina’s got to take the hat quickly!”

          Regina joins them as they keep running back to the entrance of the crypt. She looks panicked. “Down the hill to the river!” she yells as she turns and takes off.

          Just before they lose sight of the street, a slender bolt of fiery orange and gold lashes across the sky toward them, making a booming crack of sound before it evaporates.

          Anya failed to hold that one off. She grimaces and pushes back on the djinn, who is now trying to fly past her, pushing at her all the wind it can gather. She tastes desert sand in her mouth and tries to spit out the grit. It reaches out a hand to send another bolt toward Regina, and she slashes her hand through the air, causing a knife’s-edge blade of water from the sewer beneath the djinn to slash across its arm before it can release the energy.

          The djinn screams, though unfortunately its hand does not fall off as Anya hoped. _It’s ethereal_ , she reminds herself. In a flash, its other hand sends a bolt straight at Anya, but the distance is much less in this case. The golden ray strikes her shield and it falls apart. She hastens to throw up another barrier but the djinn’s wind pushing on her is a lot of opposing power. She’s unprotected.

          The djinn rushes toward her on its wind swell and passes right through her body on its way to Regina.

          She falls to the street, senseless, her magic useless.

*****

          “Wake up!”

          Anya regains consciousness reluctantly, not even wanting to open her eyes because her body feels utterly exhausted. It gets worse the more she recovers full senses. The back of her head is a throbbing knot. She opens her eyes.

          “Are you ok?” Ruby helps Anya sit up.

          Anya groans but responds, “I believe so.”

          Henry, kneeling beside her, can’t help himself. “What happened? Did you guys stop the djinn? Did you use magic on him?”

          “Hush, child.” Anya feels the back of her head, but luckily it’s not bleeding or swollen. Unluckily, she tries to heal it and can only feel the vestiges of her magic. It will take her a long while to regain her power, maybe days. “I do not know much more than you, as the djinn overpowered me. Is it gone?”

          There’s no wind moving the leaves, and the air has chilled and humidified again. The whole town seems silent.

          Ruby nods. “The wind died out pretty suddenly, and the screaming and booming stopped. But when we came out of Granny’s, we saw you first.”

          Despite her exhaustion, Anya has her friends help her up and they walk through the cemetery gate to see whether the djinn met, hopefully, its doom. Running through a cemetery seems inappropriate even under the circumstances, so they walk briskly, Henry chafing to take off.

          David’s voice comes to them; he’s yelling something, but it’s faded too much with distance. Now Henry does take off down the hill toward the river. Ruby looks at Anya, loathe to leave her struggling to keep pace, but Anya waves her on.

          By the time Anya can see what’s happening, Henry is already gaping at the Evil Queen. She’s got David hanging in midair, woody vines from a nearby bush wrapping themselves around his throat, suffocating him. No wonder his shouting stopped.

          “Let him go!” Anya cries, putting as much force as she can into her voice. She adds in a gulp, when the Queen blazes her eyes toward her, “Your Majesty.” Anya doesn’t want to force her to stop, primarily because she’s not actually able to at the moment.

          David falls to the ground with a thump, and Ruby and Henry rush over to him. He coughs as he tries to inhale too fast.

          Henry looks up at his adoptive mother, his cherub face turned dark. “You really are evil,” he whispers, furious and teary-eyed. She acts as though to reach out a hand toward him and he flinches away. “Stay away from me, I never wanna see you again!”

          Stung, the Queen looks away from him and accidentally catches Anastasia’s gaze. Even from a distance, her eyes extrude disgust, disappointment and something akin to betrayal.

          The Evil Queen gathers herself into a spin, remembers that she can’t just disappear in a swirl of purple smoke, and strides away over the top of the hill.

          The moment of silence is broken. Anya watches David as he stands back up. “Where are Emma and Mary Margaret?”

          He glances at the gnarled hat lying on the grass, the river rushing by behind it, and Anya knows.

          “They got pulled into the hat with the djinn.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

           “I’ll go after them!”

           “What?” They all exclaim, as David stands before them with a light in his eyes.

           He picks up the hat and holds it out to Anya. “You have magic. You can make it work as a portal again like Regina did, and I’ll go through and find Mary Margaret and Emma.”

           Anya closes her eyes and shakes her head, not wanting to have to devastate his dreams. “It is not that simple, Prince. For one thing, we cannot be sure where they went, or whether they even went anywhere. The Enchanted Forest may have ceased to exist. For another, neither I nor, as far as I am aware, anyone else in Storybrooke knows how to control that object.”

           David lowers his arm in defeat. “So where do you think they went? Into a void?”

           “I am not saying that,” Anya replies, walking over to him and taking the hat. “Do you not believe you would know if Snow White had perished?” David nods. “Then as she would say, there is always hope.”

           “How do we get them back?” Henry asks, into the silence.

           “We find another way,” David says firmly. “The hat is not the only magic in this land now that the Curse is broken.”

           “Sounds like a lot of magic,” Ruby observes. “As much as I’d like to help, I’m not of much use, and there’s sort of a humanitarian crisis going on right now that I left downtown.”

           David nods. “Go. The people of Storybrooke deserve all of our help. Henry, will you please go with her? There are lots of families that need reuniting.” Henry begins to protest, until David kneels down to eye-level with him and adds, “While Mary Margaret and Emma are away, we’ll live together at Mary Margaret’s, ok? But right now, Anya and I have to make a plan. I’ll update you later, I promise. We’re a team.”

           “Really, Grandpa?”

           David nods and laughs, a thirty-year-old man with a grandson. Henry sighs but smiles, and leaves with Ruby.

           “I do not wish to complicate matters further,” Anya says quietly, as she and David watch them go, “but we will also require a way to bring them back to this world.” David looks at her, and she gestures with the hat. “Even if this still works as a portal, it is a one-way ticket, unless there happens to be another of the Mad Hatter’s hats available in the Forest.”

           David swears and turns away to stare at the water. “Got any more bad news?”

           Anya shrugs. “I will be the one to go after them.” He whirls around and begins to protest, but she cuts him off rather more abruptly than he cut off his grandson. “I am sorry, Prince, but your skills with a sword may not be a match to what could be waiting in the Enchanted Forest, with twenty-eight years of no Prince or Queen to keep them in check. You know it, deep down. I understand that you will not accept it just now.”

           “And you’re better for the job?” David replies.

           “I do not like to use magic to harm, but I will protect them both with all the power I possess. And you have seen me use it.”

           David sighs. “I’m not done arguing this, but for now we have other problems. Do you think there’s something in Regina’s vault that can help us, or Gold’s Shop?”

           “Firstly, I would like to try something else,” Anya says, and starts back up the hill. “Especially since I am so burnt out that I can threaten neither of them right now.”

           “What are we trying?”

           “Research,” Anya says grimly. “Let’s pay a visit to the library.”

           But when they reach Granny’s on their way, they’re met with the profusion of people who’ve been gathering there since the curse broke, trying to reconcile their Storybrooke lives with the past families and homes they’ve just remembered. Anya, already depleted, is overwhelmed by the stimulation, and even though the Blue Fairy immediately feels her magical presence and wants to introduce herself, Anya avoids her. “They need you,” she says to David, already drifting away from him toward the clock tower. “Be yourself, Prince Charming, and I’ll keep on with our task.”

           David can’t even protest as Snow’s seven dwarves come running up, yelling dramatically.

           A sign on the library door proclaims the building closed by order of the mayor; but based on the fact that Emma’s already broken in here once to slay a dragon, Anya doesn’t anticipate problems gaining entrance. She does have a problem once she gets inside and stares at the daunting shelves, sliding down a bookcase to sit on the floor. In her moment of contemplation before she begins her task, her head tilts sideways as her eyes drift shut and she promptly falls asleep.

*****

           She wakes to a muffled gasp and an “Oh, hello!”

           The disused but apparently functional overhead fluorescent lights hum and illuminate the shelves around them. Belle offers a concerned look and a hand. “Some people unfortunately find libraries tedious, but your reaction appears a bit extreme.” Even though Anya finds this princess somewhat annoying, and questionably motivated, she has to admit to herself that it’s comforting to hear someone else who still speaks in the more old-fashioned way of their world, reminding Anya of where, or rather when, she grew up as a child.

           “You are right that I do not love literature like yourself. However, it happens that I was very tired when I arrived here, and the task I have set myself seems daunting alone.”

           “May I ask the nature of this task?”

           Anya smiles and gets up, slowly. “I am looking for records of a magical object or portal in the Enchanted Forest that leads to other realms, namely this one. From what I know, Princess, you are a book expert. I wondered if you could help me?” Her head throbs, and she has enough magic returned that she uses one glowing hand to soothe it.

           Belle flinches away, just a bit. “Is not this the same library as under the Curse? Then I do not think it would contain what you are searching for.”

           Anya shakes her head, pulls out a volume near her elbow, and shows Belle that the title is about the creatures that inhabit enchanted waters. “Nobody used this place during the Curse; Regina hid her knowledge right under their noses. I do still have doubts that our quest will be successful. In reality I need to talk to your Beloved, but I do not have the wherewithal to do so right now.”

           “I am unfamiliar with this particular library, but if it contains any of several books I recall from Rumple’s library, we may have a place to start. As for Rumple— I cannot make any promises, but I can attempt to find out what he knows. In the meantime, let us begin.” She begins scanning the shelves, sliding out books to look at their covers and either replacing them or handing them to Anya, who soon has a sizeable bunch in her arms.

           They’re each deep in a stack of Belle’s recommended finds when the door groans open and David enters, letting in the rays of a gorgeous golden sunset.

           How’s it going?” he says to Anya, then notices Belle. “Do I… know you?”

           “Not that I recall. I’m Belle.”

           “She is helping me,” Anya explains. “We have not yet found a promising book, but it is early in our search.”

           “It’s getting late out, though, in the real world. I left Henry supervising dinner to come get you, so disaster awaits if we’re not home soon.”

           Anya yawns. “Let me just finish checking this stack before we depart.”

           “Anastasia, thank you,” David says as he sits down facing her. “I am very grateful for your dedication to helping my family, especially since you have no obligation to do so. I don’t quite understand it, but it’s part of what makes you a decisively good person.”

           “Part of my desire does stem from feeling obliged, though,” Anya says fiercely, waving a hand at him, “to Mary Margaret and Emma, I mean. Mary Margaret took me in when I arrived at her door, without question, and was never afraid of me despite the fact that magic has done horrible things to her family. And Emma… Emma protected me when I was disoriented and tried to combat my nightmares, even though I do not think she has ever particularly liked me. The two of them are not my blood family, but they were, and are, my Storybrooke family.”

           David is solemn. He pats her on the shoulder. “As far as I’m concerned, you are part of the family. Look, it’s been a very long day, and I do believe you got knocked unconscious once during it. Let’s take a break, get some sleep, and attack this again tomorrow.”

           Anya nods and follows him. She turns to Belle, who is shutting off the lights and closing the place up behind them. “Tomorrow, then? And…”

           “I will inform you if I am able to glean any secrets,” Belle answers. “Good night.”

*****

           Henry is insufferable the following morning. And unfortunately, it’s Saturday. “What’s our mission today for Operation Lightyear?” Anya makes a quizzical face and Henry grins. “I named it after Buzz Lightyear because in Toy Story he always says, ‘To infinity and beyond!’”—Henry strikes Buzz’s takeoff pose to illustrate— “and I figure that’s how we all feel about getting Emma and Grandma back.”

          “Although I still have no idea what any of those things are, I am sure that is a valuable sentiment, dear one.” Anya rinses out her cereal bowl, then stands with her hands on her hips. “Today we continue searching for magical clues at the library, and I could use your help. You are a fairytale research expert.”

          “Ok! Wait!” Henry runs to the dining table and grabs his book. “Did you check this yet?”

          Anya thumps herself on the forehead and Henry giggles. David watches the whole exchange with a kind of parental wonder. Anya pats the counter and she and Henry take their usual positions.

          They go through the whole book. At the end is the night the Curse was cast, and Prince Charming fights his way to place baby Emma in the wardrobe. “It’s a portal!” Henry exclaims. “It’s perfect!”

          “One problem with that,” Anya points out. “Remember, _I_ was what made the wardrobe magical.” Henry’s smile slackens. “Nonetheless, you are on to something,” she continues brightly. “Belle and I were looking for history books and old myths, but we need to read real people’s stories, people who are still alive.”

          “We could also, you know, ask them,” David asserts. “There are plenty of Fairytale Land folks stuck here anyway. Actually, I’ll work on that today while I’m helping folks out.”

           But what he really means is that he plans to do that with Regina, specifically.

*****

           Regina answers when the prince knocks, although she immediately pulls him inside and shuts the door. “Charming. What can I do for you?” she spits.

          “Does it exist?” David blurts out. She raises an eyebrow. “Our World. Does it still exist, or was it destroyed by your Curse?”

          “I thought I made it perfectly clear that _I don’t know_. Rumple wrote more back doors and loopholes into that thing than I ever knew about.”

           Charming grins. Then he backs Regina up against a wall, a dagger suddenly pressed to her throat. “See, the thing is, Your Majesty… I know you’re lying. If you truly didn’t know, you’d be in a panic wondering if you’d ever be able to get your full magical abilities back— so you must already have an answer.”

           Regina rolls her eyes and vanishes his dagger. It reappears in her hand. “Who says I don’t have my full abilities?”

           David doesn’t fall for her bluff.

           “Fine. Yes, it exists. I _think_ ,” she stresses. “I’ve been doing my own research, and as far as I can tell it’s the people who got brought from that land to this one, not the land itself.”

           “Great, that’s all we needed to know to keep working.”

           David is halfway out the door already when Regina calls, “We?”

           David turns back. “Anya and Henry are driving this quest, like they always seem to do.” Regina offers him his dagger, hilt first. “Thanks,” he says with a slight tone of surprise, and leaves for real.

           Regina stands behind the closed front door for awhile after he leaves, tapping one finger against her crossed arms, feeling a rising tide of anger.

*****

           “We’re been through everyone I can think of,” Henry says, leaning back against a stack of books. “We’ll have to ask Gramps if there’s any Fairytale Land stories that I don’t know from this world or the Book.”

           “Ask me what?” David is coming in to join them.

           “Whose stories we’re missing,” Anya replies. “But Henry, even David will not know them all. Belle has told us of several she knew from her reading, although I wish she had been able to ask Rumplestiltskin about portals.”

           David asks Henry, “Is there anyone in Storybrooke, at least, who you haven’t covered?”

           Henry furrows his eyebrows adorably. “Some of the nuns, who are minor fairies. And you, Anya.”

           “You have a fair point, young prince, but I have not told it to you because it is not simple for me to do so. I have blocked out some of my memories as protection to myself. It was torture to have them all with me as the tree.”

           Henry nods. “That must’ve been really hard. It has been a long time now though, so… maybe you could try to remember a little bit, just the part that might help us?”

           Anya sighs. “I will make no promises, but perhaps I can summon some of my memories back. It is possible that it will even be beneficial for me. However, let us do so with some lunch in hand, yes? This place is making me sneeze with all this dust.”

*****

           Granny’s is still closed so they get sandwiches from Joe’s Deli and sit at a table outside the Diner anyway. Anya begins telling about her family and growing up in Russia, because none of that is bad memories anyway.

           David interrupts after several minutes. “Hold on, you were born in this land, the Land without Magic?” Anya nods. “Then how do you have the ability to do magic?”

           She begins, “It is actually somewhat of a learned trait—”

           “Wait!” breaks in Henry. “If you and your family are from this world, then how did you end up in the Enchanted Forest?”

           Anastasia sits very still for a moment. They watch a shadow pass over her eyes. “Anya, is something wrong?” David asks, when she clasps her skull with both hands.

           “I am trying to remember,” she forces out. They wait a moment. She sits back in her chair in very unladylike fashion and slowly begins to grin. “I believe Henry may have found our solution. My family fled to the Enchanted Forest through an enchanted wardrobe.”

           David releases a hoot of laughter. Henry and Anya stare at him wide-eyed. “I’m sorry, but you have to admit that’s a little ironic, considering.”

           Actually, Anya would’ve laughed at that if she wasn’t caught up in another memory that had arisen unbidden when she let the wardrobe one out, a memory involving guns and angry men yelling. Henry pulls her back to their reality by grabbing her hand and saying her name. “Do you think it might still be wherever it was when you came out into the Enchanted Forest? If the Forest is still there, I guess.”

           “I have news about that, actually,” David says carefully. “While you guys were in the library, I talked to Regina.” He notes how Anya jerks to attention at her name; the Prince is starting to catch on to something. “She lied before, or I guess misled us, technically. She believes Our Land is still there, despite her Curse. She wasn’t interested in helping us get there, of course.”

           Henry shakes his head. “She really is the Evil Queen. I don’t get why she hates everyone so much.”  

           “Henry, look at me,” Anya redirects softly. “People change, yes? True, Regina is evil now, but she has not always been. Almost every person in Storybrooke has changed since I have known them; I had plenty of time to watch them do so. Take Mary Margaret—Snow; when I first met her, she was a spoiled, bratty young princess.” Henry giggles. “Then she grew up and was a tough, independent but kind-hearted bandit who respected trees. Yet you know her as what she is now, a soft-spoken, kind teacher and mother.

           “And David, over there?” She looks at David, who points at his chest with a ‘Who, me?’ expression for Henry, who laughs again. “I knew him back when he lived on a farm. He was certainly no heroic, courageous prince then- he was actually a bit too meek as a shepherd. But he is not like that now, correct?”

           Henry nods. “But—I—I’m just confused, I guess. You have magic and you’re not… evil.”

           After a moment, Anya sighs. “I do not have a worthy answer for that, Henry, other than that everyone is unique and maybe I would have ended up tempted by the darkness just as intensely as your mother if I had not been cursed for all those years. It is difficult to believe in someone who has not given you reason to; but I knew Regina a long time ago just like Mary Margaret and David, and back then she was a beautiful, innocent young woman who was learning to use magic because she wanted to help people. Can you believe in that ‘Regina’?” Henry shrugs.

           “You must be sure,” Anya says, evolving into the person she knows he looks up to. “If Regina is going to be successful in changing, she is going to need, most of all, support from the people who care about her—that is you and me. We have to believe in her and help her get better, yes? Even if she does not think that she wants to, even if no one else thinks she is capable of redeeming herself.”

            Henry is sitting up and nodding now. “It’s just like when you and me and August were the only ones who believed in the curse… and we sorta figured out how to break it, after all.”

           “These are all well and good intentions,” David puts in, “but can we put the whole redeeming-Regina thing on the back-burner for a bit? Anya just figured out how we can rescue Snow and Emma!”

           “Maybe,” Anya says. “The wardrobe remained in our new castle in the Forest once we had arrived, at least I remember that. However, I was expelled from it under rather unpleasant circumstances, so I have no idea what the state of our home became after my family was killed, nor what has transpired there in the many intervening years since, both when I was cursed and while it has apparently sat vacant with the Forest’s inhabitants banished here.”

           “Well, how do we find that out without sending someone through the hat?” David asks pragmatically.

           Anastasia stands, and Henry can almost see the dress and crown she should be wearing in regal splendor. “We ask Rumplestiltskin,” she declares.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

              “Excellent!” Rumpelstiltskin giggles, watching Anastasia and Regina each growing orbs of flame larger and larger between their cupped palms. “Now snuff them out!”

              Anaya’s goes out instantly as she lowers her hands, but Regina struggles as the magic pours out of her. She just started her tenure with Rumple, and it’s hard enough for her to summon the well of magic within her body.

              Anya moves to face Regina and coaches her gently, “Think of dissipating your magic in the same way you gather it. Only return it to the source within you, rather than out with us.”

              The fireball shrinks slowly, Regina staring at it intently and then looking at Anya when it vanishes. The joy in her eyes is infectious, and Anya smiles back amicably. She wasn’t sure whether she was going to like the new girl.

              “Controlling the power is almost as important as having it,” Rumple says. “It will be a great struggle for you, since you both seem determined not to become ‘dark like me’!” He cackles sarcastically.

              Anya rolls her eyes and Regina laughs silently. She touches Anya’s arm as they both turn back to their teacher. “Thank you.”

              Anya feels warmth radiating out from where Regina’s hand touched her skin. Unlike magic, the sensation that’s raising in her as she stands next to Regina is anything but controllable.

*****

              “Henry, will you hold my hand?” Anya reaches out to him.

              Henry clasps it good-naturedly but asks, “Why?”

              Anya nods at the door to Mr. Gold’s shop, the ‘Open’ sign indicating that, for better or worse, Mr. Gold was in. “You shall help prevent me from using my magic in a way I may regret.”

              Henry gulps at the responsibility but keeps his hand tightly in Anya’s as David swings open the door and they enter.

              Anya wishes instantly that she could spend many hours in the shop. Every wall and display case are filled with magical objects and fairytale artefacts. This was one, although not the major, reason she had not gone to Regina’s vault when the chance had arisen; the treasure trove aspect is very distracting.

              When Rumple sees who it is, he cannot help an ever-so-slight flinch. Anya notes that she’s made him consider her a threat. The Darkness makes her feel a flash of satisfaction, but she forces herself to embrace the other feeling, shame. “Yes, dearies? I wish I could guess you’ve come to shop, but your expressions say no.”

              “You’re right,” Charming says. “We’ve come to have some questions answered.”

              Mr. Gold frowns sarcastically. “Unfortunately, dearie, I don’t know what happened to your wife and child. The Hatter’s domain is his own.”

              “You did not yet hear what we desire to know,” Anya points out. She pauses, looking at a golden flower encased in a glass setting, and touches it with a finger.

              “What can I help you with?” Rumple distracts.

              Anya turns to him. “What happened to my family’s palace after you betrayed us? Did the Bolsheviks stay? Did they destroy it?”

              Rumple shakes his head. “She sent them back the way they came, though I was not allowed to follow, and then I left for elsewhere. As far as I’m aware, your palace remained abandoned; but then who knows, with those nasty Ogres left to run around?”

              “Then… no one took ownership of our estate?”

              “Ah, that,” Rumple grins impishly. “Technically it was subsumed into King Leopold’s kingdom, but neither he nor his bride ever visited there.”

              Anya’s hand suddenly gets very warm in Henry’s, and he squeezes it to remind her.

              Rumple continues, “So really, you should be asking the Evil Queen—”

              “Shut it,” Anya snaps, but she doesn’t summon her power. “If you’ve nothing else useful to say, we shall thank you and be on our way.”

              “Now just a moment!” Mad Rumple is coming out to play. Anya can almost see the glistening scales creeping over his hands where they emerge from Mr. Gold’s suit jacket. He enunciates his words in that way he does. “You wouldn’t be thinking of using that… wardrobe, would you, dearie?”

              David says, “What’s it to you?” Anya rolls her eyes at him. Intimidation won’t get them anywhere when it’s magicless Prince Charming doing the intimidating.

              Rumple keeps his gaze locked with Anya’s to try to judge her response. “Because, Prince, that wardrobe is a powerful magic portal between realms, and I’m always interested in knowing who possesses such objects. And what they plan to do with them.”

              “Well, that should be rather obvious,” Anya answers sharply, “but you are perhaps the last person to whom I owe any explanations.” She smirks and turns her back on him. “In any case, you have answered my question. The palace and the wardrobe remain where they are, under your curse. Otherwise you would not be so interested in my pursuing it.”

              It takes willpower to leave that place without even looking through the wonders it holds, but she does, hand in Henry’s.

              “Is that all we need?” David asks, once they’re back on Main Street. “We have a way to get there and a way to return. If… the wardrobe can go to this world?”

              “I am _almost_ certain that it does,” Anya shrugs. “At least, my family and I went through in the opposite direction. It is not guaranteed because when I was a wardrobe, I seemed unidirectional. However, I believe that was due to my curse interacting with Regina’s curse rather than a general rule. There are numerous other fairytales with wardrobes that allow travel in both directions.”

              “I know one of those!” Henry cries. “The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe!”

              “As I said, it is not a sure thing, but I am willing to go now regardless. Better that I find Emma and Mary Margaret with a vague plan than leave them alone with the Enchanted Forest in whatever terrible state it is in now. Emma has her gun, and Snow White is talented with a bow, but those are nothing against ogres, as Rumple so kindly reminded us.”

              David sighs. “As it turns out, you really are the better candidate to go, aren’t you? I have no idea where to find the wardrobe, and no magic.” His phone rings unexpectedly. “Hello? What? Yeah, I’ll be right there!” He explains, “Blue said there’s a group trying to leave town, about to cross the line. They’re panicking for fear of the Evil Queen. I have to go; start making preparations without me.”

              “I’ll go with you, Grandpa,” Henry says. “You’ll need a deputy for the emergency.”

              David looks to Anya and she nods. “I’ve got ideas for supplies and I want to draw a map to ensure I remember the Forest. I shall meet you back at the apartment.” She watches with a strange twinge of pride as they take off, family on a mission.

*****

              Anya gets a strange feeling as she turns away from Gold’s shop, and instantly sees why. She ducks around the corner toward Mary Margaret’s apartment building, hoping Regina didn’t notice her.

              No such luck. “Anya,” Regina calls. “Anastasia!” Sharper.

              An ethereal hand grabs her shoulder and forces her up against a rough brick wall. The exposed skin on her arms and neck feels like it’s being rubbed with sandpaper as Regina replaces her magic for a real hand.

              “Anastasia,” the Evil Queen begins, “tell me you weren’t just talking to Rumpelstiltskin for the reason I suspect. For the same reason that David accosted me about our land’s existance.”

              “Milaya, that will depend on what you suspect. If it is that I desire to find a portal in the Forest that can transfer myself, Snow White, and her daughter to this land, then I am afraid that I cannot answer as you would like.”

              Regina smacks her other hand onto the wall, close to Anya’s ear. She flinches away. “Don’t play games. You’re planning to go through the hat after them?”

              Anya nods silently, disliking even now the pain that she provokes in Regina’s eyes.

              “Please don’t,” Regina whispers. “You don’t know where they went, if they’re even alive, if the place still exists.” Then the Queen resurfaces. “I forbid you.”

              Regina instantly regrets saying that, because it causes the pent-up-love in Anya’s expression to be buried behind the fiery gaze of her irritation. “As though you can stop me,” she scoffs, grabbing the bejeweled hand next to her ear and using it to push Regina away from her.

              Regina desperately grabs the back of Anya’s neck and kisses her roughly, pressing their bodies together. She feels Anya yielding in her grasp and bites her lower lip.

              Anya thrusts her away with both hands and an extra push of magic so that several feet of space are opened between them.

              “That will no longer suffice to solve our disputes, Regina. We are not teenagers. I am going to find them, whether you like it or not.” She storms away, out of sight up the stairs to Mary Margaret’s apartment.

*****

              Anya is so deep in concentration that she jumps when the apartment door creaks open.

              “Crisis averted,” David announces. Henry runs over to the dining table where Anya has gathered everything she needs to take with her and is currently hunched over a piece of computer paper drawing and erasing.

              “David, do you see aught that I have drawn inaccurately?”

              “Hell if I know, Anya, I’ve got a lot of David Nolan memories stuck up here muddling my geography knowledge.” He leans over her shoulder anyway. “King George’s kingdom is off to this side,” he indicates, circling an area, then pointing where to draw the king’s castle. “But you don’t even know where you’ll come out at.”

              “I am aware, but the illusion of being prepared for contingencies comforts me.” She carefully folds up her map.

              Henry offers her a camouflage-patterned backpack. “Mother Superior gave us this from the extra donations. I picked the color… ‘cause I thought you’d want to blend in.”

              Anya hugs Henry one-armed around the shoulders. Next, he helps her pack up: food, practical tools, and a pocketknife, among other things. “I am going to go change and then I shall be ready,” she declares. “Oh! While I am upstairs, think if you have some small token for me to give Emma and Mary Margaret.”

              When she comes down, wearing a combination of Emma’s pants, Mary Margaret’s sweater and sensible leather boots that she found forgotten in a closet, Henry hands her a keychain with a tiny yellow bug. “This was supposed to be for Christmas, but it’ll remind Emma of when she brought me back to Storybrooke.”

              Anya tucks it reverently into a zippered pocket in the backpack, along with a compass on a chain that David hands her, saying only, “Snow will remember.”

              She takes a last look around the apartment, then picks up the pack and the Hatter’s hat. The hat she hands to Henry, who takes it carefully. David gives her a questioning look. “Right, I should have explained. I think I should go through the hat at the same place in this world where they did; it is not likely, but perhaps a location here corresponds to the same location there.”

              The boys nod.

              They march quickly to the cemetery. As they pass Gold’s shop, the doorbell dings and Rumple calls, “Anya, I found this. You should have it back, at least.” He hands her a folded armful of fabric.

              Anya unfurls the shimmering dark blue material. “Oh! I cannot believe you have it… thank you.” Somehow, he kept track of her favorite cloak: the one she wore so often to meet him and Regina in the woods for lessons. She immediately shakes out the folds and fastens it around her neck.

              Rumple inclines his head and, for once having no scathing comment to make, disappears back into his shop.

              They continue to the cemetery gate. Funnily enough, between the cloak and the leather boots-and-trousers look, Anya is only missing the sword to be outfitted like a prince about to embark on a dangerous quest to save a damsel.

              At the grassy sward by the river, Anya shakes her hands out nervously.

              “Promise you’re coming back,” Henry pleads.

              Anya kneels and looks him in the very green eyes. “I promise I will try my absolute hardest to bring us all home to you. No matter where I go, I will always try.”

              “I wish we could do more to help.”

              “Henry, you will help me the most by keeping hope alive here. After all, your hope is what broke the Curse.” Henry shrugs, but he grins.

              Anya notices movement out of the corner of her eye and stills. “May I ask for another favor, too?” Henry nods. “Will you tell your mother that I said goodbye?” Anya looks up the hill past him, to where Regina has silently appeared to watch the upcoming event, a small, dark figure waiting wordlessly.

              Henry glances where Anya does and wrinkles his nose. “Why?”

              “Because, she is remaining up there rather than running down here to try and prevent me from going. That shows enormous growth, and I want her to know that we appreciate that, okay?” She hugs Henry, then David.

“Be careful,” Charming says.  “That world was dangerous even I was living there, and who knows what it’s like now.”

“I’m sure I can handle it,” Anya answers with a wry grin.  “After all, I’ve lived there too.  Ready, Henry?” He nods and hands her the hat.

              Anya closes her eyes. She takes a deep breath, feeling the magic within the hat waiting like a fountain about to overflow. She opens her eyes, flicks her wrist. The hat billows open into a spinning portal on the ground before her.

              Anastasia stands on the brink, long copper hair flying in the wind.  She takes once last glance at the figure on the hill and then, steeling herself, jumps into black nothingness.          

*****

              Falling through utter darkness, Anya feels the world spinning wildly around her.  She almost panics, not knowing when it will end.

              Then suddenly light returns, and she sits up amidst a pile of rubble. Standing, she realizes the rubble is a perfect circle, cut from the marble surrounding it. Behind her is an enormous palace that does not look like any she has visited.

              Anya makes her way carefully out of the pile and stands on the top step of a grand outdoor staircase looking out across a barren, damaged landscape. The ground is scarred and gouged, dry and cracked, and utterly devoid of life. Skeletons of trees are scattered around the open plain. The sky is a disconcerting shade of gray with a red tint- nothing close to the pure blue she remembers. 

              The damage doesn’t go on forever: about a mile away, a thick forest springs up, its trees stretching out to the horizon.  The sun hangs high above the treetops but is traveling slowly down; that way is west.  Anya is oriented, though she still has no idea where she is. She hopes deep in her stomach that that forest is the Enchanted Forest, because otherwise she’s screwed.

              She should be scared, but she’s not, because there’s a tingling sensation surrounding her body. Magic. Deep magic, not the weak facsimile that Rumpelstiltskin brought to Storybrooke. She holds her palms out before her, and rather than needing to summon the ability up from within, merely lets it out through her.

              Both of Anya’s hands begin to glow brightly and flames spring up on each of her fingertips. She snuffs them out instantly, with barely an effort of will. She tries something else, something she and the Evil Queen could not achieve in the Land Without Magic. She merely thinks it, and she instantly fades out of view, invisible, then comes back.

              Anya breathes a quiet sigh of relief.  Everything is as it should be. She is ready to leave now, as soon as she figures out where to go. She closes her eyes. This is a tricky spell, one she was just beginning to master when she got cursed into the tree; it requires an involvement that she’s not quite comfortable with.

              Emma’s face floats in her mind, and the sound of her voice echoes, saying “Anya,” and “Look, kid, I’ve been thinking,” and “You sure going alone is the best plan?” A green, glowing butterfly appears, meandering down the steps before stopping, realizing that its creator isn’t ready to leave yet.

              Anya switches to Snow, conjuring up memories mostly of short-haired Mary Margaret in Storybrooke, saying things like “Of course you can stay here,” and “I can’t imagine how you must feel.” But there’s also a dimmed memory that arises unbidden, of Snow as a child when Anya first met her, many years ago. A white butterfly flits a circle around Anya before joining its companion.

              She gets an odd feeling as she meets the butterflies and they whirl off, passing by a strange structure on their way to the trees.  It appears to be a solid sphere of thorns. She sees a person-sized hole in the wall and ducks inside, suppressing the urge to retch when she sees the man who lies prone on a slab of marble. He isn’t dead, but motionless—cursed? She recognizes with dawning horror the identity of the magic on him. It feels the same as when she battled the djinn. At least now she knows that she came through the portal in the same place as her friends—and the monster they tried to banish.

              The butterflies await. They flutter away, side by side, across the ruined plain. Emma and Snow had stayed together when they arrived; that was something Anya had been taking for granted, but now knew for certain. She follows them to the edge of the forest, pausing briefly on the periphery, then follows.

              The sun sets after a couple of hours of walking, and darkness sets in below the trees. Anya realizes that as useful as the Tracking Spells are, the light they necessitate is conspicuous. She attempts to console herself that she’s probably capable of fending off any danger that can find her because of them.

              That thought flies out the window when she hears rustling far off in the trees. Although it was probably just the wind, she pauses. Perhaps she should stop now, conceal the spells, and continue again in the daylight.

              The butterflies whirl excitedly away from her, indicating that they’re close to their target.

              They disappear through a thicket and she runs after them, heedlessly.

              When she comes out on the other side, she’s face to face with a warrior woman who’s pointing a sword directly at her.


	10. Chapter 10

              “Don’t move!” The warrior warns. “Who are you and where did you come from?” She slides her sword toward Anya’s throat to threaten her.

              Anya twists her fingers and the weapon disappears from the warrior’s grasp, then reappears, now in Anya’s hand. “I do not take kindly to such behavior,” she remarks. “Shall we start again?”

              The point of an arrow appears a split second before Snow comes into view, saying loudly, “Mulan, what is it?” Then Snow spots Anya, and she shrieks in surprise before happily  her bow and running to embrace her strange friend.

              “Anya—what on earth?”

              “Snow! Thank goodness you are alright.” Anya lets go. “And Emma?”

              Snow answers, “Fine, she’s back at our camp,” pointing over her shoulder. “Anya, you’re here! How? Why?”

              The warrior retrieved her sword when Anya dropped it and is pointing it at her again; when Anya notices her, Snow turns as well. “Mulan, it’s fine, she’s a trusted friend from the Cursed Land. Her name is Anastasia.”

              Mulan mutters something about ‘Lancelot’ that makes Snow wince but lowers her weapon. “Let’s at least get back to the others, then.”

              Anya begins explaining as they walk briskly. “I came through the hat to find you and Emma and get you back to Storybrooke. Sorry it took so long. Henry and I had difficulty constructing a return plan.”

              A branch cracks in the distance, and Snow instantly has a cocked bow pointing at the noise. Anya thinks to herself that Snow’s speed was as fast as if she’d used magic. “Nothing,” Snow concludes. “Here, we’re back.”

              Between several low-branched evergreens, they’ve set up a couple of makeshift shelters. Emma is sitting beside another unfamiliar woman on a fallen log, fiddling with some twigs and twine, wearing only a black tank top despite the chilly air. She jumps up when she sees Anya. “What the hell?” Then she does an odd thing: she pulls out her gun and points it at Anya’s chest. “Mom, are you sure it’s her?” She looks warily at Anya.

              Snow reassures her, “She said she came through the hat. No one else knows how we got here.”

              The fact that shooting her gun would not actually harm Anya doesn’t seem to have occurred to Emma. Anya knows what will diffuse Emma’s tension, though. She unzips the small side pocket of her backpack and holds out the yellow keychain. “This is for you, from Henry.”

              Emma relaxes. The Bug and her son are two details that no Fairytale-Land monster or sorceress would know.

              Anya gives Snow the compass from David. She takes a long moment to gaze at it, eyes welling up. Then she gazes at Emma in the same strange way.

              “Now, may we converse sensibly?” Anya asks. “I have not been properly introduced to your companions.”

              “Right!” Snow remembers herself. “Anya, this is Fa Mulan, commander of Safe Haven,” the warrior woman nods from where she now sits polishing the breastplate of her armor, “and this is Princess Aurora.”

              Anya curtsies. “Your Highness.” The auburn-haired woman on the log notes her manners.

              Snow continues, “Mulan, Aurora, this is Grand Duchess Anastasia Nicko… oh, I can never say it properly.”

              “Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanova,” Anya finishes for her, her Russian accent coming out in full force. “But call me Anya.”

              Now Aurora stands and gives her a deeper curtsey. “Your Royal Highness.” She wears a light purple gown that looks more like it’s meant for a ball than for traipsing through the forest.

              “So, you’re a princess _and_ a mage?” Mulan asks wryly. Anya finds her a slightly annoying human.

              “She’s not evil, all right?” Emma snaps. “We’ll have to get you up to speed, Anya.” She pats the log so Anya will sit down next to her. “Yesterday we were at Snow White’s castle to see if we could use the wardrobe that protected me from the Curse.”

              Anya starts, “But—”

              “Yes, we figured out immediately that it no longer functions. In any case, it’s destroyed now. And we’re on our way back to Safe Haven, where Mulan and Aurora live, to come up with another plan in safety.” Snow has been re-fletching an arrow while she explains.

              “Is it so unsafe here now?”

              “Ogres roam the woods uninhibited,” Aurora answers. “That is reason enough for us. Although Snow White managed to kill one that attacked on our way to the castle. Have we ever met? It is strange that we have not been acquainted before.”

              “I do not believe so,” Anya demurs. Seeing that Emma is staring pointedly at her, she digs her fingers into the rough bark of her seat and adds, “In any case, forming a new plan shall not be necessary. I came prepared for us to seek out the portal that we have identified. We—”

              “Stop,” Mulan interrupts. Anya raises one eyebrow at her in her most haughty princess way.

              Emma inserts quickly, “She’s right, it’s not safe to discuss out here. We were attacked by more than just that ogre. Wait ‘till we get back to their camp tomorrow.”

              That statement gives Anya many more questions to ask, but she is forced to swallow them and nod. Snow and Aurora pass around their dinner, cold.

              “The ogres can smell fire, even if they can’t see it,” Snow tells Anya as they eat.

              “The thing of it is, I do not recall ogres being a serious problem in the Forest before,” Anya muses. “The trees would have spoken of them, since they are so destructive.”

              Aurora’s eyebrows knit together, and Mulan actually opens her mouth to speak, but doesn’t. Mages are strange creatures, after all.

Aurora is shivering already from the chill in the air, although she’s wearing a sturdy cloak like Anya’s. Anya says, “It is going to be bitterly cold tonight, I would guess. Will you trust me to use my magic to make our shelter more comfortable?” Glances are exchanged. Mulan frowns but nods.

              Anya raises a hand above her head. A dark blue shimmer radiates from it and spreads above and around them until a hemisphere of translucent haze covers the whole camp. “No one will be able to see, hear, smell, or enter from outside. Therefore, now we can have this.” Anya grins as a merry little campfire appears, crackling the embers as though it’s been burning for hours.

              Her effort is worth it when Aurora thanks her and settles to sleep, shivers easing. Anya knows the dramatic change from princess to becoming a nobody in the woods. So does Snow. The Enchanted Forest holds some of their best memories, but also some of their absolute worst.

*****

             “There it is.” Mulan points at a hazy shoreline visible across the body of water before them. They follow her along the edge of the trees until they reach the spoke of land that forms a natural pathway to the island. Mulan halts as they start across it.

             “What?” Emma grumbles behind her.

             “Something is wrong,” Mulan says in her precise way. “There is no sentry here to challenge us.”

             The women glance at each other. Silently, Anya moves to the head of the party next to Mulan, who has unsheathed her sword. Snow drops to the back, drawing her bow and keeping their other members protected within. Although no one would admit it, they don’t trust Emma’s gun to do much good.

             No sound reaches them from the village. They pass the defensive barrier, which stands unguarded, the gate open. When they first see what lies beyond it, Aurora gasps and covers her mouth, and Anya immediately leaves the group to kneel beside the closest person.

             The village center is covered in prone bodies lying on the ground. It appears that everyone there is dead.

             Mulan yells names and runs between the bodies, searching for the people who were her home in this wretched land. Anya leans back on her knees, shaking her head at the others. There is nothing she can do for the man she examined, as he is already dead. Her power has its limits.

             “Check for survivors,” Emma says quietly to Snow, Aurora, and Anya. Mulan is beyond their reach.

             Ultimately, unfortunately, there’s no one for Anastasia to heal. The group reconvenes beyond the village center, leaving themselves some breathing space.

            “What the hell happened here?” Emma asks, as they all stare, blankly, carefully away from the scene.

            “I killed them,” a voice says. A woman appears before them, smirking wickedly.

            “Cora,” Snow sighs, as Mulan concurrently hisses, “Cora!”

            Between them, Anya turns to stone. No, ice. The kind of ice that clings to tree branches, hanging steadfastly through bitterly cold Russian nights.

            Cora ignores the others who call her name. She grins. “Anastasia.”

            A bolt of fire snaps out of Anya toward her, so fast it’s clear that Anya acted on instinct. Cora blocks it, but winces.

            “Dear, that’s hardly the way to greet one you haven’t seen in so long.”

            Anya stutters through frozen lips, “What the hell are you… what are you doing here? You’re supposed to be—”

            “Banished?” Cora laughs. “My daughter tried to get rid of me, but she has never been particularly competent. Although she has become so much more so now that she has finally taken on her role as Queen. I made the right choice getting her away from you.”

            Now Anya smirks at her mortal enemy. “You think that you have kept Regina and me apart?”

            An image appears in the air, floating between Anya’s group and Cora. It plays a scene from Anya’s memory, one where she and adult Regina kiss on a dockside bench overlooking the sea. A scene that occurred in Storybrooke only a few days ago.

            Although Anya cannot see because she’s busy controlling the vision, Mary Margaret’s mouth drops open and she glances at her daughter. Emma only shrugs in a  way that says, ‘I’ll explain later,’ and turns back to the action just as Cora waves an arm powerfully at Anya, who loses the image rather than getting knocked off her feet by an invisible wall shoving on her.

            “You should have stayed cursed, Anastasia. It would have been better for all your friends if you had.”

            “I thank you for your concern,” Anya spits, “but I am quite glad to have been released from it. Although being a tree for so long gave me quite a lot of time to practice.”

            The slightest bit of trepidation crosses Cora’s face. “We will see about that, darling.” She makes ready to vanish.

            “This time you will not be able to surprise me,” Anya informs her, and Cora cackles as she disappears.

             Anya half sits, half falls to the ground, tucks her knees up to her forehead, and wraps her arms around her folded legs. Her whole body begins to shake. The others simply stare at each other, trying to recalibrate— Snow still has a dazed look on her face from being blindsided with Regina and Anya’s relationship—before Emma kneels down next to Anya.

             “Hey.” Gently, so as not to get burned or something, Emma lays a comforting hand on Anya’s quivering shoulder. “Talk to me, kid.”

             Anya snuffles, “I am not—”

             “I know, I know, you’re older than me or whatever,” Emma interrupts. Mulan and Aurora exchange a questioning glance. “Look, I know you’re private about your past and normally I’d accept that, but clearly there’s some very serious history between you and Cora. It seems like in this case it could affect us all. So, what made you so upset?”

             “Why did you not tell me that she was here?” Anya wipes her face on a corner of her cloak and holds Emma’s eyes. “You knew Cora was near. All of you did, because you were not very surprised to see her.”

             “She was one of the stories we wanted to recount in safety,” Snow answers carefully. “We had no idea that Cora was an important person to you.”

             Anya turns her face away as tears start leaking out again. Her hands are still shaking; she doubts she could control any magic right now.

             “Cora murdered my family. My terrible nightmares?” Emma nods. “They are about her, and she is the one who cursed me.”

             There’s not a sound to be heard in all of Safe Haven.

             “But… why?” Emma inquires finally.

             “Because I was a dire threat,” Anya answers, mindlessly brushing dust off herself. “Not only was I a gifted wielder of magic who could well become more powerful than her or her daughter, I was also distracting Regina from her future husband so seriously that she might not fulfill Cora’s plans and become Queen.”

             Emma lends Anya a hand as she gets up. “Still, it seems a bit, um, extreme to kill your whole family just to kill you.”

             “She is not strong enough to kill me, with my magic against hers, so instead she made me suffer by trapping me and making me watch her destroy them.”

             “Oh no,” Snow whispers. It seems merely an exclamation at the horrors Anya is describing until she adds, “What did I do?”

             Anya understands instantly; she’s been waiting for this moment since she met Mary Margaret in the Land without Magic, not knowing whether Regina had explained where all of her fury at the young Snow White had originated. She quickly strides over to Snow and grasps her by both shoulders. “It is not your fault, do you understand? Regina blames you but I do not. You were very young and unaware of Cora’s evil, and she would have come after me anyway. She was only seeking an excuse to do so.” Snow starts weeping anyway.

             “Mom? What is she talking about?” Emma asks, as Anya securely hugs Snow.

             Snow gasps, “I told Cora. Regina… she was planning how to run away from our castle, from my father. She confided in me, but I was a spoiled child who didn’t want to lose my new mother, so I betrayed her trust and told Cora. That must be when Cora decided to remove the reason that Regina wanted to leave. For love.” She pulls back from Anya. “For you.”

             Anya nods. There are so many things she could say, more history she could explain to this innocent child who has been hated for so long for a reason she has never understood, but she merely says, “I forgive you,” and draws away. She walks off by herself toward the shoreline of the bay.

             Emma grabs Mary Margaret’s elbow before she can take a step after Anya. “It’s alright. Let her go.”

             “Are we in danger?” Aurora asks. “I mean, what is to stop Cora from continuing to harm the people close to Anastasia?”

             Emma responds instantly, decisively, “She’ll protect us.” Mulan frowns. “Look, if you want out, then go. No one’s stopping you. But Anya jumped through a portal, with no clue where it went or whether she’d survive, to rescue us. I trust her.”

*****

             The trustworthy woman in question is standing by the water’s edge having a minor panic attack. If she’d spent any time with Dr. Hopper, she’d know what she’s experiencing is called Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Scenes of her family, both happy and horrifying, are playing everywhere she looks; but if she closes her eyes to hide from them, Cora stares back at her.

             Yet Anya knows what to do to help herself. She simply uses her power to block off that part of her mind. It’s a bit unwieldy to hold the blockade there all the time, but at this point it’s very natural to her. She sighs and then heads back to her friends so she can explain her escape-from-Fairytale-land plan… or as Henry would call it, Operation Lightyear.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

“Do you think Anya found them?” Henry flips a page in his math textbook, trying to pretend he’s not waiting for a response.

David takes a sip of hot chocolate. “You know, I think she did. We have to keep hoping so, anyway.”

Henry nods. He adds, a minute later, “Can I go see my mom soon?”

It takes David a moment to process that he doesn’t mean Emma. “Yeah, okay. What makes you want to visit Regina?”

“I want to check on her,” Henry says matter-of-factly. “She’s worried about Anya, too, but I gotta make sure she’s got hope like us.”

When David gives him a confused look, Henry continues, “They love each other, so she must feel like how you feel about Grandma right now.”

David pauses in the middle of rinsing out his mug. “You think Anya and Regina love each other?”

“Duh.” When David raises an eyebrow, Henry backtracks. “Um, sorry, Gramps, I meant… Anya said so. She said me and her were the only two people who cared about Regina. And Regina wanted to stop her from going through the hat. And the way they look at each other… it’s like how Miss Blanchard and David Nolan used to look at each other when you were in love but couldn’t be together.”

David unfreezes. “Then by all means, go talk to your mom.”

Henry nods at him over the counter and returns to his math homework. The corners of the apartment beyond the two of them are dark in the evening; they pretty much just sit at the counter now, avoiding the dining table because of the empty seats that stare back at them.

“Henry, you’re a very smart and thoughtful person,” David suddenly tells his grandson. “I appreciate that about you.”

Henry murmurs a “Thanks, Gramps,” as David claps him on the shoulder.

So really, the apartment isn’t all sad: two boys sit together, keeping the lights and the hope alive for their family’s return.

*****

“Are you sure that’s good idea?”

Anya sits before them calmly, though her mind still whirls. Going to her family’s home in the Enchanted Forest is certainly not something she would do, given a choice, but she’s proposed it to the group anyway. “You often ask me this, Emma, and my answer remains similar: I am not certain, but it is our best foreseeable option. If the wardrobe is still there, if it is still enchanted, it should suffice.”

“Won’t Cora guess our destination?” Snow brushes off a fly.

“Possibly,” Anya replies, frowning. “However, I have knowledge of no other possible portal, so we do not have much of a choice, unless you want—”

“I don’t want to stay here forever,” Emma cuts in, then glances at Mulan and Aurora. “Sorry, but this place is messed up. And I miss my kid.”

“Then let’s take the night to rest and prepare and we’ll set off tomorrow. It will be difficult to leave with Safe Haven in ruins, but I cannot fathom any way that we can salvage our home, with all of our friends gone,” Mulan says.

“We should at least give them all a proper burial,” pleads Mary Margaret. They all balk at the sheer number of bodies there are, graves that would require.

Anya flexes her hands. “I can solve that, provided you are willing to forsake a fire tonight.” Solemn nods all around. Anya rolls her shoulders back, plants her feet firmly in the sandy soil, and raises her hands. In the center of what was their gathering area, a huge square of dirt heaves itself up and sideways, until a six-foot-deep area has been carved out of the ground. Anya grimaces as she flicks her hand, because she causes the bodies to begin raising from the ground and floating themselves to rest in the grave. It’s very difficult to coordinate all of the dead at once, but she manages to hold on to the spell. When it’s full and the carnage has disappeared, Anya signals the dirt pile to fill in, leaving only a slightly domed area in the soil to mark what befell Safe Haven. Then her magic fizzles out and she sits down heavily.

Throughout the trudge back to the mainland, making camp, and throughout that night, they are all quiet. What can be said, in the face of such a horror? What can you imagine, when you know the monster who did it is still alive and well, is just a woman, after all.

Anya imagines plenty, that night. Emma wakes her when she starts screaming, before the others can become alarmed by the suddenness of the sound. The woman in her dreams has the same face she’s always had, made terrifyingly real by seeing her again.

*****

The bell chimes over the door of Granny’s Diner as Henry enters. He spies his target just as Regina looks up to check whether it’s him, and he hops smartly over to her corner booth as she begins to stand up. She realizes quickly that he won’t tolerate a hug and settles again with Henry sitting across from her.

“Henry, I’m so glad you called me! How is school?”

“Um, it’s been not so great, with Miss Blanchard gone.” He pauses as Ruby comes over with a hot chocolate for him. She even put cinnamon on top without him asking. “Thanks,” he says as she’s already leaving. “Mom, I wanted to visit you partly because I made a promise.”

Regina sips coffee. “Oh, so it’s business. What promise?”

“Anya asked me to tell you that she said ‘Goodbye’ to you.”

“Okay. Thank you.” Regina manages not to spill coffee as her shaking hand deposits the ceramic cup back onto its saucer.

“Mom, um… are you doing ok? I mean, with you and Anya being separated. She’s gonna come back, you know that, right?”

Regina frowns. “Henry, why do you think—”

“Oh, don’t try to lie to me.” Henry looks stubborn enough to eat another poisoned apple turnover. “Not again. She pretty much said she loves you, and you love her. I just wanna make sure you believe she’s coming back with Emma and Miss Blanchard, like I do.”

Regina sighs, heavily. “Anastasia managed to return when I thought her long dead, so I have hope that she will return from this journey, too.”

“You still look sad, though.” Henry actually willingly touches her hand to console her.

“Yes, darling, because even when Anya comes back to Storybrooke, we can’t really be together.”

Henry furrows his eyebrows over his mug.

“Anya hasn’t always been a hero,” Regina explains. “She used to be normal—well, no, she’s never been normal, she’s a Grand Duchess, after all—but she had flaws like anyone else. But suddenly she… battles djinni, uses powerful light magic, and she jumps into portals for people she cares about. She’s a hero now. And I’m… well, a villain.”

Henry just stares neutrally back at her, and Regina laughs. He says, “Well, it’s true, you know. Nobody believed me for forever when I said you were evil, but I was right. But… I don’t think you have to _keep_ being evil, if you don’t wanna be. Anya said her and I have to believe in you ‘cause we’re the ones who care about you. I’m gonna do what she says.”

Regina laughs again, more of a genuine laugh instead of an evil cackle this time. “That’s usually best. She’s so stubborn, isn’t she.”

Henry grins and begins to scoot out of the booth. “Yeah. I’ve gotta get going. David’s teaching me to sword fight!”

His mother’s eyes widen, the Evil Queen fire appearing.

“With wooden swords!” He adds quickly.

“Alright,” she concedes. “Thank you, Henry. I know you don’t exactly want to be around me right now, so thank you for coming to see me.”

Henry waves as he leaves, and she thinks to herself that she’s done at least one good thing since the curse. She raised an excellent kid.

*****

“Let’s take our rest,” Emma says, spotting a convenient crop of rocks next to the road. Their midday break is necessary after a long morning of travel.

They had passed King Leopold’s –Snow’s—castle again two days ago, this time staying away from the place itself and skirting around it to the north, along what Snow says used to be the main road between kingdoms. Not one that she would’ve targeted as a bandit, because it was well-guarded and maintained.

But now, they avoid large holes in the path and can sometimes barely see it where the forest has grown onto it. After they’d reached a large manor yesterday evening that Anya said had been Cora and Regina’s home before she became Queen, she’d told them to be on the lookout for a branch in the path. They had stopped in the relative shelter of the manor’s gardens for the night. And sure enough, when they arose this morning, they’d barely begun the day’s trek when a smaller but still well-worn path had appeared at a junction in the road, and Anya had turned them onto it.

Over the next several hours, the road led them on a slight incline; they were getting higher, heading into the hills. Snow had recalled a trip they’d taken to a rather distant kingdom for a wedding when she was eight years old—they’d crossed through the mountains, then. Those were days of travel away, yet, but the whole region around them was hilly like this. Already there is a higher abundance of evergreens amongst the trees towering overhead.

As the women pass around water pouches and food, Mulan inquires, “How far away are we now?”

Anya has been staring impassively at the foliage around. “Not far. A few hours, at most. I think Snow and I should scout ahead for a bit, though.”

She receives questioning looks. A deep-voiced bird caws in the distance.

“We haven’t encountered any creatures, human or otherwise, in quite some time. That could be because they’re living around our palace.”

“Actually, you have a good idea. Since we’re close already, we’d come upon any sentries very soon. And I can handle sentries.” Snow flashes a grin.

Anya is being continuously surprised by this princess. Sometimes she still becomes a bandit searching for adventure. And blood. “You can stay here and rest, and we’ll go ahead and return within an hour,” she says to the other three, standing to join Snow.

Of course Emma grumbles, but at this point Anya knows it’s just a formality. She’s gained the Savior’s trust.

*****

Snow and Anya set out to scout. Another reason Anya suggested the plan: Aurora is holding up remarkably well, but she remains their weak link. This way, she’ll have more time to rest and more certainty about where they’re heading.

The sun filters through the forest in rays and patches, catching on every bit of pooled water or glossy side of a leaf. Anya could walk silently like this for hours and never grow tired of looking at her forest. Each tree is a unique entity, each flower a dash of personality lent to the whole of the woods. The undergrowth is thin where they walk now, and though the plants remain green yet, the promise of fall is in the air.

Snow White says not a word, and Anya almost forgets that she’s right beside her. “You are an impressively silent walker,” Anya remarks finally.

“For several years, I had to hunt to survive,” Snow answers softly. “And hide from the Queen’s men.”

Anya nods. They begin to curve to the right, back toward the path that the others will be coming along, when Anya stops abruptly. She’s staring at a spot in the midst of a tiny clearing ahead of them, eyes in the past. Wildflowers edge the space, encircling a large old dogwood tree that shades the mossy ground around it.

“Anya?” Snow prompts. “Will you show me what you see?”

Anastasia rouses herself and shakily raises a hand.

In the shade of the dogwood tree, two young women recline on the comfortable moss, conversing. One is lying with her head in the other’s lap. The girl she rests on looks up from twirling her lover’s hair, and Snow realizes that she is looking at a much younger Regina.

Anya, lying down, says something that makes Regina laugh and look at her with such an unfiltered expression of youthful love that Snow catches her breath at the beauty of it. At the beauty, and at the jarring reminder that, once upon a time, Regina was an innocent girl. “Regina was about this age when I first met her,” Snow observes to Anya.

The real Anya nods, watching her phantom self pluck a purple wildflower and tuck it into Regina’s long braid. “This is where we used to spend our leisure time together, between our homes. It is only a short ride from here to Alexander Palace.”

A shining butterfly flits out of the trees opposite them and floats toward the girls. A boy comes jogging out of the woods after it. Snow almost draws an arrow before realizing he’s also part of Anya’s memory. Anya tenses.

“Nastya, it’s almost time for dinner. You must not be late again, or Mother will be cross with both of us,” he rushes breathlessly.

Unable to stand it any longer, Anya waves a hand and the mirage vanishes. She paces onward.

Hurrying to catch up, Snow murmurs, “Honey, I don’t mean to pry, but…”

“But you do pry,” Anya bites, then recants. “I apologize. My memory rattled me more than I expected. The boy was my little brother, Alexei.”

The wind rustles the trees, and she turns back toward the direction that Alexei came from, just looking. And feeling, for once.

*****

 

“We have arrived,” Anya says. Aurora sighs with relief, hiking up her skirts as together the group rounds an uphill curve in the road.

A large stone manor appears, draped in ivy and lined by massive evergreens. It’s not actually a palace, but it’s still quite grand and startling as you come upon it. It’s also deathly quiet where they stand. The forest thins out significantly near the building, allowing for fields surrounding it on two sides that must’ve been for farming, though now they grow weeds as tall as a person. But still, no birds sing, no winds moan through the trees.

Anya’s face is a patchwork of joyful and traumatic memories as she stares at her home. She nods toward the entrance. As they approach, Emma and the rest note that the wooden front doors and the top stone step leading up to it are marked by charred gouges, as though a fiery bomb had gone off there.

Anastasia has gradually slowed to tail them and now stops at the foot of the steps, trembling.

When Emma reaches the door, she notices Anya’s absence. She descends, while Mulan traces the charred marks with gloved fingertips and reverence.

“You don’t have to go in, Anya,” Emma says, clasping Anastasia’s upper arms and feeling the girl carefully inhale.

Anya struggles to take in her friend’s voice over the memories and nightmares swirling in her mind, but she shakes her head. “I am okay, as you would say. There is no one to be afraid of here, just my memories. Even though it is difficult, I need to do this.” She clamps that part of her mind shut as best as she can and stubbornly, hastily ascends to the doors and pulls one side open.

Snow White links her arm supportively through Anastasia’s and they all step through the doors.

The entryway is dark and chilly, the air damp. Anya waves a hand and heavy drapes draw back from several windows. The afternoon sun streams in, showing them a large, two-story atrium with a dusty marble floor and a grand staircase across the room leading up and away. Beautiful, in a solemn way.

“So, how big is this wardrobe that we are meant to find?” Mulan asks abruptly.

“As tall as my father, and wide enough for two children to walk through side by side,” Anya replies, tentatively stepping toward the center of the room. “To be honest, I have an idea where it might be, but…” she looks toward Emma and Snow, “I would like to go up to my bedroom first to get some things I left behind.” They nod approval. “We can divide ourselves so that you may search in the meantime.”

Anya ascends the staircase first, trailing her fingers along the wide banister, watching sidelong the shadows of her siblings as they run the other way, Alexei shrieking as he slides down the banister. When they reach the top, Mulan and Aurora go one way, Snow and Emma the other, and Anya is left to enter her childhood bedroom in blessed solitude.

When she emerges, her backpack substantially heavier from the dress and other trinkets she shoved inside it, Emma and Snow are waiting. Emma is facing Anya’s door patiently, while Snow leans on the railing of the landing, looking out over the atrium below. A ray of sunlight illuminates her.

Emma asks Anya pointedly, “Where to?”

Anya knows she’s been found out. “I believe it is in the ballroom. Mother and Father had the wardrobe hidden immediately after we fled through it to this land, attempting to banish the memory of our pursuers, I suppose. The day of the… tragedy… though, from what I remember, the Bolsheviks appeared right in the ballroom, so it seems that Cora summoned it there.”

Emma extends an arm toward the staircase to indicate that Anya should lead the way. They descend, and Anya takes them toward one side of the entryway, where a set of double doors, inlaid with gold, stretch from the floor to the ceiling. She shivers, then pushes both of them open enough to enter the room.

As Emma and Snow take in the large, intricately decorated space before them, Anya gets slapped in the face with a memory. She can’t possibly contain this one, the worst one, the source of the nightmare. It’s so overwhelmingly strong that she sits down on the steps of the dais, wrapping her arms around her knees and rocking, whimpering. Their faces are so clear as the life drains from them. She murmurs, “No. Not my Alyosha!”

Emma crouches down in front of her and grabs her hands, then her face, forcing Anya’s head up. “Look at me, Anya,” she says firmly. “That’s in the past. Think of a happy memory instead. Fight. Fight with hope.”

Just then, Mulan comes back from her search with an ornate music box in her hands. “We didn’t find a wardrobe, but this has a swan on the lid, so I thought it seemed interesting.” She twists the knob just a bit and three tinkling notes play.

Anya turns her head sharply and motions for the box. “That’s mine! Grandmama gave it to me. It is an heirloom of my family.” She frantically winds the knob and then lets it go. She opens the box and there’s a girl in pointe shoes and a gold dress inside, turning with a man in a white jacket as the box starts to play its tune. Anya hums along softly, then begins to sing… “and a song someone sings, once upon a December”.

The others can palpably feel a huge swell of magic gathering all around them. Anya is suddenly wearing a yellow dress with an off-the-shoulder neckline and long, loose sleeves, made of a heavy silk material with a red sash worn over it, her hair tied back with a large bow. She looks like a little girl. She stands, magic streaming from her in all directions.

The other four women see a bearded man in a pristine military uniform coalesce at the bottom of the steps, like a ghost but more solid.

“Someone holds me safe and warm; Horses prance through a silver storm,” Anya sings, walking down the steps toward him. Lamps spring to life along the walls. Snow and Aurora gasp, their clothes having turned into ballgowns.

“Figures dancing gracefully across my memory…” And then the tinkling music swells beyond the box, and a hundred glimmering people appear, whirling around the ballroom floor in pairs, dressed in dazzling dresses or crisp military jackets and sashes.

Anya takes her father’s hand and he leads her to the center of the ballroom. They dance slowly there, not joining into the larger pattern but beautiful nonetheless. Emma looks around and realizes that Snow White and Aurora have joined the dancing as well; she searches the crowd and finds her mother, who is slightly more solid than the Prince Charming-esque man she’s partnering, and Aurora with ethereal Prince Phillip. She can still hear Anya singing; the dancers are eerily silent, probably because they’re imaginary.

“Someone holds me safe and warm; Horses prance through a silver storm; Figures dancing gracefully across my memory…”

Mulan nudges her, and Emma looks where she points. Rumplestiltskin, looking younger and better dressed, stands against the side wall at the top of the steps behind them. An auburn-haired boy not much older than Henry stands beside him, dressed in a fancy military uniform like a miniature of the man that Anya is dancing with. He is watching the dancers, rapt.

“Far away, long ago, glowing dim as an ember; Things my heart used to know, things it yearns to remember; And a song, someone sings…”

The lights begin to fade. A chill seeps across the room. Emma turns back to Anya, noticing that the other dancers have faded away. Anya stands in the center of the floor, looking past them up the dais, with Snow and Aurora off to the sides. She’s still wearing her yellow dress.

At the top of the stairs, seated on regal chairs, are the man she was dancing with- her father, Tsar Nickolas- and his wife, Tsarina Alexandra. Beside Alexandra stand three young women, slightly older than Anya, and the boy they saw there before. Rumple has disappeared.

“Once upon a December,” Anya finishes in a whisper, staring at her family.

As the music fades away from the now-unmoving music box, the chill becomes a wave of icy cold. Dark shadows coalesce in the center of the ballroom, turning from vague shapes into the forms of men. Tall men, in dark coats and military hats, carrying guns.

In a flash of instinct, Emma picks up the music box from the floor and winds it again. Anya takes the box and looks inside it. She draws out a delicate gold necklace and stares at it in disbelief. Tears run down both her cheeks. The memory of the girl who gave her this necklace is strong enough.

The shadowy men vanish, and the cold with them.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

              Still in a sort of trance, Anya unhooks the necklace she holds and clasps it around her neck, the charm slipping below the neckline of her shirt.

              “Is this it?” comes Snow’s voice. She’s still across the ballroom where Anya’s song left her, staring at a majestic piece of polished reddish wood set against the wall between two of the large windows. She traces the intricately carved floral pattern on a door; it’s definitely a wardrobe, a large one a couple of feet taller than Snow is. Snow tugs on the door handle.

              “Wait!” Anya cries, but Snow has already pulled upon the doors.

              “Well, that is disappointing,” Snow says, staring at the wooden back of an empty wardrobe.

              “I was going to check it for dark magic before you did that, but…” Anya stands and approaches the wardrobe. She holds out her palms and closes her eyes, searching for ambient magic like a deer scenting for predators.

              “There is something here,” she mutters. “Truly, two somethings. The wardrobe has deep magic on it, a spell older and more advanced than I have learned. And…” Anya gets a concerned look.

              “Anya, what’s wrong?” asks Snow.

              “I am unsure. I feel a source of magic reaching out, like another person, but I cannot identify them. They must be very close by. Oh!” Anya looks down at the music box she holds and opens it. The soldier and the ballerina stand there, stilled.

              “One of them is causing it.” Anya kneels down, placing the brass-edged box on the floor, and touches a glowing finger to the soldier. Uneventful. Then she touches the ballerina: and a wave of magic billows out in a golden dust cloud, blowing the hair back from their faces. Anya is obscured in the center of it.

              When it clears, there’s a full-size woman standing beside the box. She pats her face with her hands, then stares at her hands. The ballerina, in full tutu and slippers, realizes that Anya’s kneeling in front of her. She exclaims, “You released me!”

              Anya nods.

              Aurora sneezes and the ballerina looks up, taking in their company. “Oh! So many of you. Why have you released me? And who are you? My name is Clara. A spell was cast upon me such that if I was unable to find my prince and kiss him before midnight, I would become a toy. I am looking for a—”

              “A nutcracker,” Emma interrupts.

              “Why, yes!” Clara exclaims. “Do you know where he is?”

              Everyone else stares at Emma too. She shrugs. “This is one case in which I actually know the fairytale already. You know, the Nutcracker Ballet? The Boston ballet performs it every year at Christmastime.” Blank stares. “The composer was Russian, so I figured you would know it, Anya. Anyway, I’m sorry, but we just got here and we haven’t seen a nutcracker.”

              “Actually, I think we did,” corrects Aurora. “Mulan, wasn’t there a nutcracker in the bedroom we searched upstairs?”

              Mulan shrugs. “I do not recall particularly, but I was very focused on looking for the wardrobe above all else. You’re better at noticing things than me.”

              “Come, then, we shall see if my memory is right.” Aurora beckons, and Mulan silently follows her. Clara and Emma start after them, but Aurora admonishes them to stay.

              Anya has already forgotten about them. She’s absorbed in the magic that seeps from the wardrobe, hinting that there is indeed a portal enchantment there somewhere.

              Meanwhile, Snow wipes cobwebs and dust off the thing, humming absentmindedly. “Really?” Emma asks her mother, who is confused. “That’s ‘Whistle While you Work’ you’re singing, it’s in… nevermind,” she breaks off, seeing Anya glaring because Emma broke her concentration. “Any brilliant magical solutions?”

              Anya shakes her head. “I believe that I will have to undertake some research, or else find someone here with older magical skill than I. I can identify its presence, but I do not know what these spells require to work.”

              “I was correct!” calls Aurora, breathlessly hastening down to them. She holds up a nutcracker figurine. It’s about eight inches tall and dressed like royalty, furred cape and crown included.

              “Oh, my Prince!” Clara exclaims, taking the toy from her. “Can we free him like you freed me?”

              “Try kissing him,” Snow says. Clara raises a delicate eyebrow. Snow adds, “True love’s kiss. It can break any curse, at least in my experience.”

              Emma chuckles.

              Clara shrugs and kisses the nutcracker toy on its nose. She’s enveloped in a gold cloud that billows from it, and by the time the others can see her again, she’s in the arms of a tall, mustached young man with a crown on his head and a cape on his shoulders.

              “Darling Clara, you broke the curse! But, my love, where are we?”

              “I’ve only just been freed myself. It’s an enchanted realm; but I’ve no memory of how we traveled here.”

              Anya turns away from staring at the wardrobe to say, “I’ve a theory about that. I believe my family and I brought you with us when we fled to this world. You may have been cursed for quite a long time, I’m afraid.”

              The Prince bows deeply. “Your Royal Highness, we are indebted to you regardless.”

              “Ha! How useful, I’m sure,” a voice says. It’s Cora, of course, making her entrance through the ballroom doors and gliding down the stairs to them, stopping on the empty dais where once there were thrones. “You haven’t even figured out how to use it, have you? A shame.”

              Snow smirks. “And I suppose you have?”

              Cora smiles without showing teeth. “Indeed, my darling Snow, I do know. Maybe I’ll even tell you, for a price.”

              Clara opens her mouth, but Mulan spits, “Your promises are as false as your lies, witch.”

              Emma simply adds, “Yeah, fuck that and fuck you.”

              While Cora’s attention is on her friends, Anya seizes a dangerous opportunity. Her mind dives into Cora’s, seeking a weak spot in her mental defenses; if she cannot find one, Anya thinks grimly, she’ll break her way in by force. Anya’s mental magic has probably soared past Cora’s, since she was wholly dependent upon it as a tree.

              The unfortunate side effect of diving into someone’s mind, though, is that you forget your own body. Anya’s goes limp and collapses, but Emma is near enough that she catches her. It seems to her, and everyone else, that Anya fainted: that is, until Cora screams in frustration and clasps both hands to her head as though she needs to hold her brain in lest it come out.

              A moment later, Anya, the physical Anya, gasps back to consciousness and recoils from Cora. Her mind is as evil as her soul, and it shows. She says, “We have no need for you. My apologies.”

              “How dare you… sticking your nose where it does not belong!” Cora twists a hand, and Anya grabs her throat, fighting for air. She tired herself with the psychology trip, so she can’t properly stop Cora from suffocating her.

              Mulan simply draws her sword and thumps the back of Cora’s skull with the hilt.

*****

              “Not to be insensitive, but do you know how to fix this thing now?” Emma gestures at the wardrobe.

              Anya catches breath enough to say, “Yes. It requires my blood.” She holds up a hand to forestall questions while she rubs her throat with the other. “The portal is enchanted to be activated only by members of the Romanov bloodline. It was intended to protect us from the Bolsheviks.”

              “So it’s that easy? You just have to be the one to open it, and we can go home?” Snow’s voice cracks.

              She nods, but says, “Before we go, there is something I must do.”

              “First things first.” Emma grunts as she rolls Cora onto her front side, binding the unconscious woman’s hands behind her. “We’ve gotta get rid of her somehow. Otherwise you know she’ll try to come through with us.”

              “And binding her is going to accomplish… what?” Mulan says, raising an eyebrow.

              “Right. Magic.” Emma pauses. “Anya?”

              She shrugs. “Since she’s unconscious, I can transport her elsewhere. Back to the Haven is far, that may slow her down enough.”

              “We will fight against her should she return here,” the Nutcracker Prince declares.

              “She’s a powerful witch,” Aurora warns bluntly.

              Anya’s heart is pulling her toward the place she is both evading and longing to go. She works the charms, Cora vanishes, and then she murmurs quickly to Emma, “I will return.”

*****

              Snow finds Anastasia behind the manor, just past a garden that’s gone wild, but before the forest’s edge. She’s kneeling at her family’s grave, leaning forward on her elbows, hands folded as though in prayer. Snow doesn’t approach, she just looks on.

              It’s just a mound of dirt, really, now covered by grass and vines. There’s a little wooden plaque before it; Snow reads the names. Anastasia is on the list.

              Snow White says a prayer then, silently, not taking her eyes off the gravestone for Anya’s entire family.

              Eventually, Anya stands and brushes off her knees and her cloak. She loves her cloak as much now as ever before. Snow offers no words, just her arm, and they start back toward where Emma and the others wait, looking out from a terrace over what used to be a wonderful garden retreat.

              Anya breaks, just a little; she halts, trying to will herself not to look back at the grave. Instead she turns in to Snow’s waiting arms and is securely embraced.

              “Anya? What if you made it look prettier?”

              She leaves Snow’s embrace and turns back toward the grave. The magic is flowing through her so freely, with her defenses lowered, that she doesn’t even raise a hand. Six lilac bushes arise and bloom over the grave, with six proper headstones placed in front of them. Anya and Snow look at it.

              “My mother loved purple,” Anya murmurs. “It was the royal color, so she had the right to wear it regardless, but she loved the color in its own right.”

              Snow wraps her arm through Anya’s and they return with the others to the house.

*****

              “Aurora, may I borrow your dagger?” Anya takes the offered loan with a bow of her head— no curtsey, they’re friends now— and presses the point into her palm.

              “What’re you—” Emma starts.

              Anya presses her lips together in distaste as the blade pierces her skin. “Cora’s information said, Romanov blood.”

              “Yeah, like, you’re a member of the bloodline. Not—”

              “Enchantments are often quite literal,” Aurora offers.

              Emma frowns, but Anya replies, “She is right.” She pushes the blade in until a hearty welling of blood appears, then presses her hand to the door of the wardrobe. The wood around her hand gets warm and begins to glow. The flow spreads across the whole wardrobe, and then Anya must take a step back as both doors swing open.

              Emma swears. Mary Margaret starts crying.

              Anya looks back at them and holds out her uninjured hand.

              “Wait!” Aurora runs to Snow and hugs her, then Emma and Anya. Mulan offers her handshake.

              “You could come, you know!” Snow exclaims. “Escape Cora, and the ruin.” But Aurora shakes her head.

              Mulan says, “We have to trap the djinn and force it to give Phillip’s soul back. And keep Cora occupied.” She grins.

              “I am sorry. I should stay, to help you, but—” They cut Anya off.

              “Go,” Aurora interrupts gently. “Your Love is in that world. If you truly can control the portal at will, come back and assist us, later.”

              “And thank you,” the Nutcracker says.

              Grand Duchess Anastasia curtsies to him, to all of them. “Goodbye.” She motions Emma and snow through the doors ahead of her. They climb up and through, and the last thing their Fairytale Land friends see of them is Anya pulling the doors shut behind them.


End file.
